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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23509870">Predicament Bondage</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dgalerab/pseuds/dgalerab'>dgalerab</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>IT (Movies - Muschietti)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>BDSM, Fluff, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mutual Pining, Sonia Kaspbrak's A+ Parenting, Sub Richie Tozier, dom eddie kaspbrak</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 12:35:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>106,574</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23509870</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dgalerab/pseuds/dgalerab</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Richie is cast in an irreverent sexually charged comedy, Bev suggests he do "research" with Eddie, a professional Dom.</p><p>Only problem is: Richie's still in the closet.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Minor or Background Relationship(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1412</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1817</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">

        <li>
          Translation into Русский available: 
            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26954080">Трудности бондажа (Predicament Bondage)</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fil_l/pseuds/Fil_l">Fil_l</a>
        </li>


    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Huge shoutout to my beta, fxvixen, who isn't in this fandom and has experienced these characters only through this fic and still got wildly invested.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“I booked it!” Richie cries as he slides into the room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Which one?” Bev asks, sitting at the table, sketching some kind of ball gown.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know, the one you guys helped me rehearse,” Richie says, shoving her over a little so he can sit on the table. Someone - probably Patty - has made a very nice fruit arrangement in the center of the table, and he grabs an apple out of it and munches. “With the banana scene.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stan sighs from the couch. “That garbage movie? Of course they wanted you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, don’t hate,” Richie says. “They needed someone funny </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>sexy to sell their movie.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And they had to settle for you,” Stan says dryly. “Tragic.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh-ho, Stan gets off a good one,” Richie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you playing again? A chronic virgin?” Stan replies. “That should work out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Quite the opposite, my good sir,” Richie declares. “I’m playing a professional Dom. Someone who gets all </span>
  <em>
    <span>kinds </span>
  </em>
  <span>of tail. For </span>
  <em>
    <span>money.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, like, a prostitute?” Stan replies.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They’re not prostitutes, technically,” Bev cuts in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh-ho, has our dear Beverly been seeing someone?” Richie asks with a hammy wink at her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She rolls her eyes. “No, I have not. I just talked to one of them not long ago, while I was waiting for Bill to finish up on a shoot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie and Stan shoot looks at each other. Bev met Bill while doing costume design for one of his movies. He had finally gotten her to file that restraining order against Tom, something he and Stan had been pushing for for a while, and after a few months she’d started insisting there was nothing between them, and they’re honestly not sure if it’s true or not.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pray tell?” Richie asks, because he needs to know what to make of Bev somehow meeting a professional Dom while waiting around for Bill, her totally-not-boyfriend who talked her into getting that elusive restraining order.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She notices their piercing glances. “Oh my God,” she sighs. “He’s a high school friend of Bill’s or something. Bill was stuck in a meeting, so we started talking and it came up. He works as a Dom on weekends and a mechanic on the weekdays. Nothing weird about it. Richie, I can give you his number if you want.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie’s palms get sweaty as a reflex. She probably didn’t mean anything by it, but for someone who spends as much time as Richie worrying that everyone can see right through him, it’s a little too close for comfort. “Now just what is the lady insinuating?” he says in a thick Southern accent.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sighs. “For </span>
  <em>
    <span>research,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> she says, like it’s obvious.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah,” he says. He thinks he does a pretty good job of pretending his guts haven’t just twisted into a pretzel. “Sure, I’ll think about it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think Richie needs to do research for–” Stan says, checking his phone, “Playboy Paralegal 2.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How dare you,” Richie says. “This is a serious movie!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mhmm,” Stan says, putting his phone away. “Good luck.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>**</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bev scrawls down the number on a bit of pink paper next to a neatly printed, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Eddie Kaspbrak,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and Richie quickly tosses it. No thanks. Stan’s right, he probably doesn’t need to do much research for this role - he’ll just have to spew corny sex puns while also wearing leather pants, and Richie doesn’t have the balls to call up a guy who does sex stuff for a living to be like, “Hey, can I sit in on your sexy times? In, like, a straight way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But then Bev gets invited to one of Bill’s wrap parties, and she asks him to be her plus one. And Richie’s gotta get eyes on this Bill guy, make sure he’s not (another) creep trying to worm his way into Bev’s life. Bev’s a kickass gal, but she’s a little too good at making excuses for assholes who don’t deserve her, just because they did a few nice things to get her attention.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’s an optimist, after all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So he puts on a corny graphic tee that reads, “It won’t suck itself!” that Bev bought him from Goodwill last year and a baby blue blazer and jeans and goes with her. She’s wearing a beautiful sundress and matching earrings, and he looks like a crazy person next to her, but she still happily goes with him and proudly introduces him to Bill.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bill’s much shorter than Richie was expecting. Like, really tiny.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bev introduces Richie to him, and he smiles, then furrows his brows at Richie’s shirt. “Bev’s told me all about you,” Bill says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And it’s all true,” Richie says, winking at Bill.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bev rolls her eyes. “So, congratulations on the wrap!” she says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Th-Thanks,” Bill says, then suddenly looks around her shoulder. “Oh, Mike’s here!” He grins at Bev. “You have to meet him, he’s going to love you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, right behind you!” Bev calls as Bill vanishes. “He’s totally into Mike.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie wants to jump out of his skin. “Like, in a…” he says, making a confusing gesture not even he can understand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She rolls her eyes. “Grow up, Trashmouth.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then she’s gone, leaving Richie to stand there and process.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s 90% sure Bev would barely even give a shit if he came out to her, but the chances aren’t 110%, so Richie can’t tell her. Because if he tells her, he has to tell Stan too, with his stuffy rabbi dad who cares about appearances and who alternates between being progressive and weirdly conservative without any rule or rhyme, so the chances of Stan being cool with it are only, like, 99%, and then there’s Richie’s Catholic parents who are at best an optimistic 70%, and then all his extended family whittling down the number to 50-50, and then their shitty conservative town of Maine, and the comedy industry, and…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Richie’s having an out of body experience in some actor’s mansion with a soft blue backdrop and some indie band playing in the background, and if this is what thinking about coming out is like then he doesn’t really want the real deal, thanks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He searches for any alcohol he can find, and instead finds a small, grumpy face glaring daggers at his shirt from one of the couches.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He grins widely and decides to throw himself into annoying the shit out of this guy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey there,” he says, throwing himself onto the other end of the couch. “You know, parties are for enjoying.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And shirts are for making a good first impression,” the guy says. “And yet…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s wrong with my shirt?” Richie says. “It’s a PSA. You know, since your mom seemed confused last night.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The guy gives him a withering glare, and Richie extends his hand. “Richie Tozier.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” the guy says. “I know. I saw one of your comedy shows. At three am, when networks air that kind of bullshit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie lets out a sharp guffaw. “Well, good to know someone was awake to experience real entertainment.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have trouble sleeping, asshole,” the stranger replies. “And I wouldn’t call it entertainment. Wouldn’t even be able to call it toxic sludge.” He takes Richie’s hand. “Eddie Kaspbrak.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” Richie blurts, before he can stop himself. “The Dom friend!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie raises his brow. “Excuse me?” He glances around, like he’s checking if anyone heard, but no one gives a shit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It occurs to Richie just how hot this guy is, but now it’s too late to go back. “Bev wanted me to call you for research.” That sounds worse somehow. “For a movie I got cast in. I’m gonna be playing one of you fine leathery gentlemen.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie scowls at him. “I’m sure it’s very factual.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, one of my lines is ‘the jury isn’t the only thing that’s hung,’” Richie says. “So you can imagine it’s a very exact science playing this role.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie looks so disgusted, it’s easily the funniest thing that Richie has seen this month.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t worry, dude, I won’t bug you about it,” Richie says. “I think Bev was just excited to show off her connections.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good,” Eddie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie makes another attempt to find the alcohol, but then Eddie’s talking, and boy does he have some lungs on him, because before Richie can blink he’s already blurted, “You do know </span>
  <em>
    <span>something </span>
  </em>
  <span>about this sort of thing? Because I realize you probably don’t have a lot of say in the script, but BDSM really gets misrepresented, you know, and people pick up a lot of very unhealthy ideas about it that can lead to abusive relationships, and I just think if you’re going to be pretending to be a Dom you should at least know the basics.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie stares at him. “Uh,” he manages. It’s not often he gets outtalked. “Guess I’ll hit up a dominatrix, or something, then, huh? Have a good time?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie gives him a withering look. “Give me your phone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie, for reasons he doesn’t understand, just fucking does. He’s not even drunk yet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie types his number into the contacts. Richie watches him, and then numbly takes his phone back when Eddie’s done. “Look,” Richie says. “Uh… I’m not…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The fact that you think we’re going to have sex is enough reason for me to explain to you just how much you’re wrong about,” Eddie says. “Trust me, I’ve seen your comedy, I’m not under any illusions.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Technically, that’s success, but it doesn’t feel like it. “Cool. Just didn’t want to get your hopes up, in case you wanted some of this tall drink.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie rolls his eyes. “Strictly professional, I promise.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Think you can handle it?” Richie jokes, because he hates himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Eddie mocks. “I think I can handle it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Ouch,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Richie thinks. “So, what do you do when you’re not bossing people around for a living?” Richie asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m a mechanic,” Eddie says. “I fix up vintage cars mostly.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie nods. “I… drive cars, sometimes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie sighs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie feels a little like he’s on a blind date, which is weird because he thinks he’s just been rejected. But also has an invitation for sexy not-sex research burning a hole into his pocket. And that’s weird, right? “Hobbies?” he tries.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Having manic episodes, I guess,” Eddie says. “Bill made me come to this because I was about to soak all our shoes in bleach, which is, apparently, bad for them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie bursts out laughing. “Uh, yeah, so I’ve heard.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie rolls his eyes. “Sometimes I see shit about how dirty things are on the news and it’s hard to stop thinking about it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, yeah, I get it,” Richie says. “Sometimes I even wash my socks once a month.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie looks like he doesn’t know whether to strangle Richie or puke on him. “Tell me you’re joking.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie gives him an innocent look. “No, why?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The look on Eddie’s face is priceless.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>**</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stan expects Richie to report back on The Bill Situation the morning after the party, and Richie realizes he spent less than a full minute so much as looking at Bill because after fifteen minutes of hygiene lectures, Richie had been fully engrossed in his conversation with Eddie.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Also, Eddie’s number is on his phone, and it haunts him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stan picks up on it the second he walks into the kitchen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t look so good,” he says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Better than your mom when I left her,” Richie fires back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your heart wasn’t in it,” Stan informs him. “Did you drink too much last night?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Richie says sulkily. He actually isn’t sure he drank more than a glass of punch. He didn’t want to miss a single rambly, angry second of the action. “I was bone dry last night, Staniel.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stan sighs. “So, is Bill Denbrough a sociopath or not?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dunno, but Bev thinks he’s gay,” Richie says, and then tries not to watch Stan’s reaction too hard.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is he?” Stan says, face not betraying anything but the fact that he has a plan to hide the body if Bill does anything ungentlemanly to Bev.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know, man,” Richie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stan sighs. “What were you up to?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Flirting,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Richie thinks, and then shakes the thought out of his head. He’s gonna be having professional sex conversations with the guy soon. Sexversations. Definitely cannot be thinking flirty thoughts, or it’s going to get real weird real fast. “Research.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Research for what?” Stan sighs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My </span>
  <em>
    <span>role,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Richie says. “I am but an </span>
  <em>
    <span>artisté,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Stanley!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, fuck off,” Stan groans. “You don’t have to research to stand around making weird dick jokes, that’s just your life.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The guy insisted,” Richie says. “So there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right,” Stan says. “Well, if Bill isn’t gay, he’s absolutely pulling something shady with Bev, so I’m going to kill him and then you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That’s sort of promising, Richie thinks, though it really only puts “gay” above “domestic abuser” so sadly it’s not enough to pry Richie out of the closet. “I had no idea you were so against straight people,” Richie says. “What is that, heterophobia? Us straight white dudes have feelings too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bev enters the kitchen before Stan can retort, yawning. “So,” she says. “You were talking to Eddie last night. Taking me up on my offer?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“His </span>
  </em>
  <span>offer,” Richie replies. “Poor lil dude was antsy about me spreading misinformation, so I’m gonna have to humor him. It’s the humane thing to do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, he’s bitten off more than he can chew,” Stan says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie grins at them, before realizing that this means he does, in fact, have to call the number burning a hole through his brain and stomach and phone. He shoves an entire slice of toast into his mouth to avoid digging any more graves for himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>**</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It takes him a full week to work up the nerve to call Eddie.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe he could just take a walk around the block a few times and tell Stan and Bev that he talked to Eddie instead of them noticing he ran with his tail tucked between his legs. Maybe he could just say Eddie didn’t actually have time. He’s absolutely not picturing Eddie and his furrowed brows sitting in a theater watching a shitty movie about a sexy lawyer and thinking about what a goddamn idiot Richie is.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, Richie dials the number and quickly puts it to his ear before he can think twice, feeling his throat tighten.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Eddie Kaspbrak speaking,” the voice over the phone answers. Richie doesn’t think he remembers Eddie’s voice being so… firm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, it’s Richie,” Richie says. “Tozier. Trashmouth. You know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah,” Eddie says, sounding normal again. “Sorry. I was starting to think you wouldn’t call.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I couldn’t risk you getting a stroke seeing all the errors in my movie, now could I?” Richie says. “They’d have to drag your dead body out of the theaters and that’d be really bad for press.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t worry, I would never pay money to see your movie,” Eddie replies.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ouch,” Richie says. “So, how do we do this? I show up at your place, you show me how to lay down a good spanking and then we swear a pact of silence?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Everything you say about BDSM is so concerning,” Eddie sighs. “Why don’t I walk you through it step by step?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie’s life flashes before his eyes, but forwards instead of backwards, like Richie’s being propelled through a million futures filled with chains and whips. “Hey, no need to get too into the details,” Richie says. “I listen to Rihanna.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie is silent for a good while. “You’re telling me,” he says, slowly, the slowest Richie has heard him speak in the sum total 8 hours he’s known him, “that you know how BDSM works because you’ve heard the pop hit S&amp;M by Rihanna?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Richie says automatically.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie sighs, harder. “Okay, listen. At this point, with a client, I’d ask you to meet me somewhere neutral, discuss the specifics, your goals and boundaries. Then I’d give you a contract - I’ll bring an example when we meet so you can glance over it. Sound good?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Neutral,” Richie repeats. “Sure. Like…?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like a coffee shop,” Eddie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ooh, you asking me out?” Richie teases.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie sighs. “Again, I’m not coming onto you. All of this is completely platonic and professional.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just dudes bein’ guys, talkin’ BDSM contracts,” Richie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right,” Eddie says, sounding really tired. “Anyway. How’s Friday at 8 for you? I’ll drop you a pin.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure,” Richie says. “Yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“See you there,” Eddie says. “And wear a better shirt this time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hangs up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie lays there in bed holding his phone blankly and staring at it until the text arrives with a location. “Fuuuuuuuuck,” he whispers to himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s not a date. It’s a totally cool thing between colleagues. Richie doesn’t even know if Eddie is gay, actually, now that he comes to think of it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s cool. It’s just a conversation about Eddie’s job. Yeah. That’s all it is.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie repeats that to himself until he falls asleep.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>**</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s never spent so long choosing a shirt before. Thing is, he wants to annoy Eddie, both because that’s who Richie is as a person and because Eddie’s really cute when annoyed, but he doesn’t actually want to get on the guy’s bad side. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Normally he’d ask Bev about something like this, because she absolutely has the right sense of humor for him, but there’s no way to ask and not sound super, super gay about it. And whatever happens, he can </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> let Bev know he’s coming down with a crush for a hot Dom.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Actually, scratch that, he can’t come down with the crush </span>
  <em>
    <span>in the first place,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and her ribbing him about it is going to make it worse.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He just needs to be calm and cool about this.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And also pick the perfect shirt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He finally opts for one Stan found for him on a business trip. They still don’t know if it was misprinted or mistranslated, but it reads “When GOD whreme he wsust sherngshu” on a bright blue background. When Stan had shown it to him, Richie had attempted to read it outloud as somberly as possible, and Bev had screamed laughing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That’s the energy Richie needs right now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pulls on a Hawaiian shirt with purple fern leaves over it and dashes out the door so he can be there on time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>**</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re late,” Eddie says. He’s sitting at a table in the back of the cafe he’d chosen. It’s a nice place, though way more light and colorful than what Richie was expecting. There’s big, pink bubbles on the wallpaper and little lights woven around the tables.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie checks his watch. “Oh, come on. Three minutes is not late.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie is busy trying to read his shirt, absently stirring his tea. There’s two teas, one in front of Eddie and one in front of Richie’s empty seat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie beams at him. “You like it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie looks up at him, scowling with all his might. “I guess I did say a </span>
  <em>
    <span>better</span>
  </em>
  <span> shirt. It was a very low bar.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie tries not to look too excited as he takes a seat across from Eddie. That’s exactly what he was going for. Annoyed but still giving his resigned approval.</span>
  <em>
    <span> Nailed</span>
  </em>
  <span> it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie sighs. “Anyway, sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“For what?” Richie asks, picking up his tea and taking a sip to taste it. It’s a sweet, slightly tangy tea.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie frowns at him. “I’ve been thinking of this as a client meeting, so… well, force of habit kicked in. I usually drop in a few little acts of dominance to set the mood. Insisting for you to be on time, ordering for you…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah,” Richie says, looking down at his cup of tea with a nervous laugh. He’s not willing to dissect how quickly he’d accepted it. “So, we agree that three minutes isn’t late, is what I’m hearing?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie sighs. “Sure, three minutes isn’t late. Anyway, most of my clients come here actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanting</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be dominated, so I’ll need to adjust my approach for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lucky them!” Richie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie pauses. “Why?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie stares at him, not really sure himself. “I don’t know, I just talk,” he admits.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right,” Eddie says. “Anyway.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie’s glad he doesn’t feel the need to ask anything else, because Richie is absolutely not sure what he’s thinking right now. He still hasn’t put down the tea.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So what I do here,” Eddie says, “is usually try to get to know my client. What submission means to them and why they want it. It’s different for everyone, and it’s important to understand the other. Normally I’d ask what they’re hoping to see from this arrangement, why they picked me, what their experience level is. Just a casual conversation, trying to get them comfortable with me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie nods. “Well, I can tell you my experience is plentiful, your mother is a real giver.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie sighs. “You know Bev and I started talking about this sort of private thing because our… well, what we have in common came up, right? Her childhood… My childhood…” He gestures at Richie to say, </span>
  <em>
    <span>What’s that tell you?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie raises his brows. “Sorry, I don’t follow.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Rich,” Eddie says, with that sharp don’t-fucking-ask edge Bev had after her dad’s funeral. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The dots don’t so much connect as come to a head on collision. He then realizes he’s going to have to flee to Mexico and change his name and raise goats for the rest of his life. “Oh.” Then, because he is Bev’s best friend and he’s still technically on a covert ops mission to scope out Bill and Eddie </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> Bill’s friend and it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>weird, right?</span>
  </em>
  <span> for some random guy to know this sort of thing, he has to ask, “Sorry, I have to ask, she started talking about her dad to a </span>
  <em>
    <span>stranger?</span>
  </em>
  <span> That doesn’t sound like her.</span>
  <em>
    <span>”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie sighs. “It was mostly me. I was waiting for Bill because my mom had somehow found my number and I was spiralling. She asked if I was okay and I have a tendency to word vomit at people when I’m stressed, and she was understanding. I yelled at her at first, so while she was laughing at me she explained that she wasn’t talking out of her ass.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right, that does sound like Bev.” He clears his throat. “I’m… look, I don’t mean the mom jokes, you know? I just landed on it in middle school to aggravate Stan and then…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You never matured past middle school?” Eddie jabs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not even a little bit,” Richie says, “but, uh… Really, I am sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie smiles. “It’s okay. Just thought you should know so you don’t feel like a real asshole if it ever came up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, good,” Richie says. “I’d hate to feel like a real fuckin’ asshole.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie snorts. “I’m serious. I don’t exactly mind the irreverence towards her. She would have absolutely despised you, and that’s always fun.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really?” Richie asks, wary. He’s never had anyone okay his mom jokes, especially not someone with apparently very serious mommy issues. Bev doesn’t talk about her dad at all, and any and all father and daddy jokes are super off the table. (Except when Richie insists he’s her father for father’s day and demands a card. She likes that one because she’s made a game of giving him the absolute worst cards.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really,” Eddie says, seeming sincere. “But to be clear, I’m laughing </span>
  <em>
    <span>at</span>
  </em>
  <span> you, </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> with you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, in </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> case, I just want to say I would have never made sweet, sweet love to her had I known.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie snorts. “You brought that back around very quickly.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s like my one thing, man,” Richie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Depressing,” Eddie says, pulling out a small binder. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ouch,” Richie replies. “Eds gets off a good one.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not my name,” Eddie says, then moves on, suddenly all business. “Anyway. Once I’ve gotten a bit of a feel for who my client is, I usually show them the contract.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ooh, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>contract,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Richie says. “Very 50 Shades.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie takes a long, slow breath, like he’s trying not to burst into a long rant.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go ahead, I’ll wait,” Richie teases.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, 50 shades is absolutely the worst representation of the BDSM community that could have possibly gone mainstream,” Eddie says. “He’s an abusive stalker who coerces her with all kinds of gifts and manipulation. They negotiate kink while she’s drunk and isolated, and even when boundaries are set, he violates them. She doesn’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>like</span>
  </em>
  <span> the kink, really, he just refuses any kind of relationship with her until she allows it, after grooming her to care about him using the same kind of techniques cults use.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait, really?” Richie asks. “I haven’t actually read it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t,” Eddie says. “It’s bad.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I got that,” Richie snorts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anyway, the contract negotiation is supposed to be as clear headed as you can manage,” Eddie says. “I’ll walk you through the various parts of it, and then normally you would take the list of kinks home, think it over, decide your hard nos, maybes and yesses and we’d have another session just to note that down, compare lists. But that’s not entirely necessary since we’re not going to actually do this seriously.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie pauses. He plays with the thought of </span>
  <em>
    <span>doing this seriously</span>
  </em>
  <span> in his mind and something coils in his gut. “Just out of curiosity, do you… do this stuff with guys, generally?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Very casual there, Tozier,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thinks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m offering a service,” Eddie says. “I don’t really select according to my own preferences. I’m gay, but I’ve Dommed for women too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” Richie says. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh God, he </span>
  </em>
  <span>is</span>
  <em>
    <span> gay.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Since I do this professionally, for money, any kind of genital play and penetration are off the table from the get-go, or it counts as prostitution, which is illegal in the state of New York,” Eddie says. “So I don’t have to have sex with women to do this on a gender neutral basis. There’s a few extra kinks that are hard nos for me with women, but as far as dominance goes, I don’t have to be attracted to the person to do it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lucky </span>
  <em>
    <span>me,</span>
  </em>
  <span> then,” Richie laughs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, lucky you,” Eddie says. “Anyway, establishing your yesses and nos is the real point of the contract.” He turns the binder so Richie can see. “It’s not legally binding, but it details how a BDSM scene works, that this is all safe, sane and consensual. It’s mostly a tool to make sure we’re being clear with each other.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie nods, throat dry as his eyes land on the section reading, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Role(s) the submissive would like the Dom to play, </span>
  </em>
  <span>along with a list of roles and brief explanations. A lot of them sound pretty stressful - degrading, master/slave… the list goes on. But Richie’s eyes also land on some things he really likes the sound of: words like “precious” and “claimed” float before his eyes and it’s embarrassing how tantalizing they really are.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So,” Eddie says, “what we’re going to do is we’re going to mark some stuff you’d be okay with me showing you. Same principle, but we’re not going to get into full scenes. And don’t try to get cocky about it. I’m not going to try to actually dominate you, but this stuff can feel really intense really fast, so if you have triggers or any health issues I should know about, you need to tell me. I don’t want to find out in the middle of explaining how, say, wax play works that you have a fear of fire.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Richie says. “Yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Scoot your chair a bit closer,” Eddie says, flipping the binder back around. Richie drags his chair up beside him so they can look over the binder together.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They shoulders brush, and God help Richie, he’s already flustered by that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, so,” Eddie says. “Part one is safewords. The point of a safeword is--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, I already know this one,” Richie says. “Whenever people really, really want me to shut the fuck up, they say </span>
  <em>
    <span>beep beep Richie.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Full stop, no more bad jokes from this ol’ pie hole.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie stares at him. “Your friends have a safeword to keep you from running your mouth?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes indeed,” Richie replies.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll remember that,” Eddie says. “And yes, technically that is correct, that’s… actually what a safeword is.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie grins at him, feeling very proud of himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If subs already have a preexisting safeword, I usually note it down here. If not, I’ll use the stoplight system. Red means stop, yellow means slow down, check in, green means the sub is okay to keep going.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie nods, and Eddie jots it down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The next part is experience and sexuality. Eddie quickly circles “novice” and “heterosexual” and Richie seriously considers his Mexico goat plan again. At least, he thinks glumly, “novice” is accurate.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And also, his act is convincing enough to fool a </span>
  <em>
    <span>professional,</span>
  </em>
  <span> so Richie’s really doing a great job at this straight dude thing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Other than the fact that he’s doing BDSM with another guy who gives him butterflies when brushing his knuckles against his thigh as an apology for knocking his knee into Richie’s while shifting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, so, pet names,” Eddie continues. “Not really relevant here, so I’ll just list a few examples and then we’ll move on. The point of pet names is generally to set the scene, help the sub switch to the proper headspace. It’s sort of like a character name in a stage performance, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then he starts listing pet names, from filthy to sweet, and Richie really, really contemplates his Mexico goat plan.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>what's up i can't think of a good start note</p><p>also, i'm gonna try to put content warnings when it seems necessary, but i am very forgetful, so please feel free to remind me of any warnings i may have forgotten. for this chapter, the warnings are: sonia kaspbrak is not dead in this fic</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Can I get a restraining order on my mother or is that too far?” Eddie says, not waiting for Bill to invite him in before pushing his way inside his apartment. The living room is a studio-type layout, joined with the kitchen, and Eddie’s gravitating that way already.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y-You probably should,” Bill says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, sure, okay,” Eddie says. “I mean, okay.” He puts his hands on his hips and tries to breathe. “It’s just that I don’t even know how I’d justify it. I mean, what, my mom tries to call me too much? Sorry, she got my work phone number and I’d like to take her to court for it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She knows where you work?” Bill says, concerned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The other work phone,” Eddie says. “I Dom-voiced my mother, Bill! She literally </span>
  <em>
    <span>did not</span>
  </em>
  <span> recognize my voice, assumed I was my own boyfriend and launched into a deeply profane verbal attack on that supposed boyfriend </span>
  <span>for corrupting her sweet little boy. How the fuck do I even tell my therapist about this, huh? ‘Hey, you know my abusive mother? Yes, I may have accidentally almost performed emotional sex-work on her for a second before she called me a </span>
  <em>
    <span>number </span>
  </em>
  <span>of slurs. Unpack </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> for $120 an hour.’ Anyway, can I clean your kitchen?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No?” Bill tries.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie is already unpacking the sink onto the counter, the bleach he’d bought Bill the </span>
  <em>
    <span>last</span>
  </em>
  <span> time he’d barged into his house to clean his kitchen. “I’m gonna, I’ve already cleaned mine and there’s only so far even I can take--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s at this point Mike walks in. “Hi, Eddie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie stares at him. He’s had a decent amount of conversations with Mike. Mike is very, very nice, and Eddie likes talking to him, but there’s a number of reasons why he doesn’t really want to keep having a manic episode in front of him: he hasn’t known Mike since kinder like he has Bill, Mike is so nice he makes Eddie want to be nicer just for his approval, and he’s not wearing a shirt and thus he and Bill are definitely here for alone time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Bill’s blushing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” Eddie says. “Mike’s here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y… Y-Yep,” Bill says, stuttering harder as he blushes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Eddie says, relinquishing the bleach. “Sorry, you guys were clearly in the middle of something, so I will go be manic at home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill sighs. “Eddie,” he says. “That’s not comforting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no,” Eddie says. “Seriously, I’m good. I’m gonna buy some unhealthy snacks and I will not get arrested for harassing the emergency room staff again. For real this time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(He had been dragged out of the emergency room by police for yelling at the emergency room staff to insist something </span>
  <em>
    <span>has</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be wrong with him, yes he </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows</span>
  </em>
  <span> he’s been checked by every doctor on call, etc etc etc, a sum total of five times between when he’d cut off his mother and when he’d found a new therapist with Bill’s help. That was about three years ago, though, and he hasn’t hit rock bottom quite as hard since.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Dom thing helps. It doesn’t help at all that his mom found his number. He’s blocked her number for now, sure but he’s probably going to have to change his number. Again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whenever he finds out who the hell gave her his number, he’s going to kill them so hard he’ll get solitary confinement, and then: problem solved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Okay, that’s not a good solution.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighs and pulls up to the nearest convenience store and buys an entire party’s worth of awful, artery-clogging food: chips, dip, ice cream, soda, chocolate, candy… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s lucky he doesn’t get the police called on him here for muttering, “How’s that, mother, got my own money, buy my own food, I’ll get a fucking heart attack if I fucking want, fuck you…” under his breath while he pays.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(In the end he can’t eat more than a fourth of it before he gets so sick he nearly pukes, and then he washes down the irony by watching Queer Eye until he falls asleep.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>**</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s woken by the doorbell and a renewed respect for his solitary confinement plan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wrenches open the door, ready to bite the person’s throat out, before he realizes it’s Richie Tozier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ha! I’m on time,” Richie blurts, like he’d been ready to rub it in Eddie’s face for several minutes already, before he takes in the state Eddie’s in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie’s about to lose his goddamn mind. “Oh, fuck, I forgot. Oh </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dude,” Richie says, putting his hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “Do you, like, need…” He looks Eddie up and down. “Like… Uh… A hug, maybe?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> sorry, I swear to god I don’t do this often,” Eddie says. “Or </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Domming is one of the most important things in Eddie’s life. It’s a way to exert control over himself and someone he’s supposed to care for in a safe way, with rules. He’s meticulous about his schedule and his habits and making sure personal life doesn’t cross over into his scenes any more than is healthy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dude, it’s fine, I’m not even a proper client,” Richie says, chuckling awkwardly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s true. That’s true, and it’s not that Eddie is losing it and can’t manage his own life and his own (deviant, his mother would say) pursuits without his mother’s vigilant guidance. He’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he’s good at this, and it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>her fault</span>
  </em>
  <span> he was so upset as to forget, but it’s okay because it’s just the straight guy that’s only here so Eddie can teach him a modicum of etiquette before he butchers it on the big screen, and…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Eddie’s totally having a panic attack. And he </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows</span>
  </em>
  <span> it’s a panic attack and not an asthma attack, but does that help? No. No it does fucking not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whoa, whoa, whoa, okay,” Richie says. “Are you having a panic attack?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah no shit!” Eddie snarls at him, before he’s hit with a wave of guilt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie just laughs and steps inside, shutting the door. “Rude of you not to welcome me inside,” he teases before slamming Eddie down on his own couch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck off,” Eddie snaps, while Richie sits behind him and claps him on the back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There there,” Richie says, in some kind of weird accent. “I know I take people’s breath away, but jeez, Eds.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>Eddie,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Eddie growls, but the nuisance is actually breaking him out of the spiral.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay Eddie Spaghetti.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you always like this?” Eddie groans.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolut-ive-ely,” Richie says proudly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie wishes he was a real client, because Eddie can think of countless ways to shut him up that he’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>love</span>
  </em>
  <span> to try. “Weird, I thought we met because of a mutual friend,” Eddie replies. “But that would imply there are people willing to put up with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie tilts his head back and laughs loudly, eyes crinkling and stupid buck teeth on full display.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He is, unfortunately, endowed with a charming face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ooh, ouch, oh, I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>wounded,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie rolls his eyes. “You are not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you’re a little hard to take seriously right now,” Richie says. “What happened, you have a killer party last night?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks around, taking in all the unfinished junk food including a half-eaten tub of cheap frosting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Eddie says. “I just… got a call I wasn’t expecting and it threw me off.” He sighs and dusts his sweatpants off. He realizes he’s got crumbs all over them and he decides, by force, that he’s going to very calmly put them in the laundry and then vacuum in good time. Casually. Like a normal adult. “Anyway. I’m really sorry about this, but there’s no way I can get into the right headspace to Dom or talk about Domming rationally right now, so we’re going to have to reschedule.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, okay,” Richie says. “I don’t know if you should be alone right now, though, you still have a bit of a crazy look right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie raises a brow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, I don’t wanna impose,” Richie says. “But if you wanna hang, I’m free today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I wanna hang?” Eddie echoes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie shrugs. “Up to you.” He snorts. “Truth be told, Bev has deadlines and my other friend, Stan, has a big birdwatching thing with his girlfriend, so I’m just gonna be bored out of my mind otherwise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, so you have <em>two</em> friends,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, why, how many do you have?” Richie fires back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh,” Eddie says. “I guess just Bill, if we’re talking close friends.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ha! See? I win,” Richie says. “Also, now that I’ve got you alone, I gotta ask… is Bill into Bev or what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, he’s super into Mike,” Eddie says. “Didn’t you see them at the party?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie gives him a funny look. “No, I guess not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie rolls his eyes. “Dude, I know you’re the masturbation joke king of straight dudes, but there’s no excuse for such lousy gaydar in this day and age.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie laughs, clearly uncomfortable. “Yeah, okay, get new 21st century gaydar. I'll put it on my to-do list, beneath your mother.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And a better wardrobe,” Eddie says, not humoring the joke because he's currently imagining her puffing up with rage at the mere suggestion, and if he acknowledges it he's going to burst into hysterics. He can't give Richie that kind of ego boost. “Don’t you live with a fashion designer?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, can’t tame this, baby,” Richie says, gesturing at his garish orange Hawaiian shirt. Now that there’s no dumb graphic tee to go with it, just a plain blue shirt, Eddie doesn’t mind it as much, if at all. “Anyway, I was </span>
  <em>
    <span>asking</span>
  </em>
  <span> because we’ve been trying to get Bev to file a restraining order against her ex </span>
  <em>
    <span>forever</span>
  </em>
  <span> and he did it in like a week, so so-</span>
  <em>
    <span>rry</span>
  </em>
  <span> for thinking maybe they had something going on between each other.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie shakes his head. “Nah, Bill’s just like that. He can be really persuasive, when it matters. He’s probably going to talk me into a restraining order against my mom by the end of this week.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” Richie says, connecting the dots way too fast.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie rolls his eyes. “Promise not to tell another living soul and I will tell you the funniest fucking thing you’ve heard all week.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whoa, whoa,” Richie says, holding out a hand to stop Eddie there. “We need some ground rules here, Mr. Dom. Am I allowed to laugh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie rolls his eyes. “Sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Am I allowed to silently use this against your for however long our newfound friendship lasts?” Richie asks, leaning back with a grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely not,” Eddie says, glaring at him and trying very hard not to smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Safeword’s beep beep, remember?” Richie says, winking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie narrows his eyes. That was too well timed. “Did you do research over the week?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I Google sometimes,” Richie says innocently, clearly not willing to delve into it more than that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie rolls his eyes. “Alright, fine. Absolutely not - note that I didn’t use a safeword, </span>
  <em>
    <span>jackass.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie’s grin threatens to take over his entire head, and he watches Eddie expectantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have a work phone,” Eddie says, “for Dom work, and I use a different voice for it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” Richie says. “That explains a lot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Eddie says. “And my mom got that number somehow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie gives him an incredibly manic expression, like he’s waiting for one last confirmation that he can laugh before he does.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I Dom-voiced my mother,” Eddie says, gesturing at Richie to go ahead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie lets out a guttural squeal and collapses into deeply ungraceful laughter, wheezing and crying and everything in between. It’s horrible, and yet again unfortunately charming. Eddie tries not to laugh at his laughter. “Yeah, yeah, it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>hilarious,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Eddie says. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Soooo </span>
  </em>
  <span>funny.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie fights for breath, clutching his sides. “Jesus, Eds, you told me it would be the funniest thing I’ve heard all week, you didn’t prepare me for this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He snorts loudly, like the world’s most entertained pig, and that finally gets Eddie laughing too. He tries to hide it by disapprovingly shaking his head, but he can’t help it. Richie’s laugh is infectious and dammit, it fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> funny.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Funny in a way only the worst things can be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie has to take several minutes to compose himself. “So, if you don’t mind me asking, what’s the food about?” He takes a bag of chips and, without asking, opens it and starts munching.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie sighs. He can think of a thousand what-ifs spiraling out of telling a near total stranger about his traumas, but Richie’s not a very threatening person. He is, if anything, a six-foot-tall, foulmouthed muppet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ever heard of Munchausen by proxy?” Eddie asks. “It’s when someone, often a parent, makes up a disease to convince their kid they’re sick and need care from the parent. It’s a form of emotional manipulation and abuse. Growing up I had all the diseases a child could possibly have and I was convinced if I strayed from my mom’s advice I’d get even more than that. So whenever she gets in touch again, I tend to spiral into either doing everything I can to prove myself that I’m healthy or that I can make myself sick if I want and it’s none of her business. Hence...” He gestures at all of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie contemplates him for a long moment, then says, “Youch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s weirdly the most comforting thing he could say right now, the most guileless, dumb thing that could have come out of his mouth. “Youch?” Eddie asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie nods. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re standing by that reaction?” Eddie pushes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, if I don’t stand by the stupid shit I say, who am I? Just a loser in glasses? Nah, this is my thing,” Richie says. “My calling card. The Trashmouth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shakes the bag of chips into Eddie’s face, and Eddie snorts and takes a handful. Without washing his hands, and not to prove a point, but just because he’s not sure the teasing atmosphere will last if he gets up now, and it’s nice. It makes things seem less dire. It’s the only reason he can appreciate how fucking funny it is that he gave his mom the Dom voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bet you were really popular in school,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, man, no,” Richie says. “For some reason I wasn’t accepted as class clown.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe because you’re not funny,” Eddie suggests.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Words hurt, Spaghetti,” Richie says. “Anyway, I was just a smart kid -- don’t fucking give me that look, I was valedictorian. Beat Stan and he nearly killed me at high school graduation when he realized - with dumb jokes, so I got the crap beaten out of me every other day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Eddie says. At least he never really had to deal with physical violence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aw, come on, it’s not that big a deal,” Richie says, putting his chin on his palm. “Doesn’t this face just scream punch me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At the risk of making you remind me</span>
  <em>
    <span> once again</span>
  </em>
  <span> that you’re straight,” Eddie says, rolling his eyes. “No, it doesn’t. It’s a nice face. You’re a good looking guy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Richie says, sounding honestly surprised. “Well. You’re not all that bad looking yourself.” He clears his throat, looking away quickly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, I know how much it must have hurt your machismo to admit that,” Eddie says. He smiles a little. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie’s already back with his little grin, saluting Eddie. “No pain, no gain!” he says, in an odd rendition of a drill sergeant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie sighs and takes the win. “Thanks for letting me talk this out.” He grabs his agenda. “When is good for you next?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kicking me out already?” Richie asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I’m just making sure I don’t forget you again,” Eddie says. “After, we can watch one of my favorite movies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm…” Richie says. “I’m guessing… Titanic? Sleepless in Seattle?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Transformers,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What?!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Richie blurts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The first one’s good,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It absolutely is not,” Richie replies. “Friday at 8, now explain to me how you like this movie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like cars.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t be gay </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> a car guy, you gotta pick one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My day job is a mechanic, dickhead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That doesn’t mean you can </span>
  <em>
    <span>like</span>
  </em>
  <span> them!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>**</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next time Richie comes over, Eddie is expecting him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe a little too much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a bit of an awkward space between Richie being here because of Eddie’s Dom service and not actually being his sub that leaves Eddie off balance. The fact that Richie is very easy to get along with, despite everything out of his mouth being objectively garbage, should help, but it doesn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie ends up pacing back and forth, watching the clock tick. He hopes Richie will try to prove a point about being on time again, because if he has to wait a minute longer in this uncertainty, he’ll lose it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The doorbell rings exactly on time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie tries not to run to get the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie grins at him. He’s actually well dressed today, a yellow patterned shirt buttoned up under a dull, dark jacket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s boring and Eddie hates it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He steps aside to let Richie inside and immediately says, “Take off your jacket.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie’s got the jacket half off before he says, “Oh, is that the Dom voice?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do </span>
  <em>
    <span>not,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Eddie warns.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie hangs up his jacket on the coat rack. “I didn’t say anything,” he says innocently, which says everything he could possibly say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie glares at him, and Richie’s grin widens.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie sighs. “Sit,” he says, careful not to use his Dom voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, sir,” Richie says, managing to make sultry sound comical as he sinks down on the couch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie sits on the other side of the couch. A little distance between them feels safer. “So, usually once a sub is in my apartment, they’ve already had some time with the contract, we’ve already had a preliminary discussion about what they want to see from our arrangement. The first meeting after that is to really clarify the details, check in with them one last time before we get into scenes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie nods, watching Eddie with his big, magnified eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(He wouldn’t even need to be blindfolded for sensory deprivation, Eddie’s hindbrain notes, before he kicks it back into the background.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That means we go over their checklist,” Eddie says, “which we more or less covered last time we talked, um, professionally.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, so, me uncovering the fact that you think Transformers are sexier when they’re shiny </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> professional?” Richie gasps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie rolls his eyes. “Remind me to add an extra lesson about how I deal with mouthy subs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie chuckles. “How devastated would you be if I was actually your client?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How devastated would </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> be, more like,” Eddie fires back. “I would end you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oo-la-la,” Richie says, winking at him. He’s bad at winking, his other eye squinting whenever he tries it. It’s cute. “Anyway, once all the paperwork is out of the way, then what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then we usually do a trial scene,” Eddie says. “I try to ease into it, giving some small commands, showing them the voice I usually use…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like with my jacket?” Richie asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was an accident,” Eddie admits. “But yeah. Or I’ll ask them to hand me a pen while we’re making notes, or I’ll tell them where to sit. Then I’ll point it out to them, which is good for two things: it encourages communication and usually it also gets the sub--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hot ‘n’ heavy?” Richie asks, with a waggle of his brows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“--into the right headspace.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie nods with faux seriousness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At this point, I usually clarify safewords,” Eddie says. “Which is something we’ll do too, just to be safe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie blinks at him, then blurts, “Oh, um, red is stop, yellow is slow down and green is go. Almost like a stop light, except we all know yellow really means speed up, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you have </span>
  <em>
    <span>any</span>
  </em>
  <span> idea--” Eddie starts, before he realizes he’s being baited. He glowers at Richie. “Nevermind. Anyway, don’t get intimidated. We won’t need safewords, because I’m just going to show you some of the things I’ll do during a first scene, but it’s good to have an easy out whenever you deal with this sort of thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think in order for me to be intimidated by you, you’d have to be at eye level,” Richie says, tracing a line from the top of Eddie’s head to his jaw with a flat hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a moment of weakness, Eddie surges forward to grab Richie by the hair at the back of his head and drag him down so he’s forced to look up at Eddie. It manages to startle him enough that he lets out a small breath, and Eddie realizes with a start that he might be a </span>
  <em>
    <span>bit</span>
  </em>
  <span> attracted to Richie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh,” Richie manages, taking a moment to get back to running his mouth as per usual. “Okay, sure, but you realize now you’re just a blur to me, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes are wide as he looks up at Eddie over his glasses as they slide down his nose. He reaches up to adjust them, breaking eye contact with Eddie as he does.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Funny you should mention eyeline,” Eddie says, trying to keep his cool even as he realizes how thick and soft Richie’s hair is. “Because that’s a really good tool during a scene. Getting a grip on a sub’s hair can help you direct their line of sight and focus. Keep it on you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He moves Richie’s head until Richie is looking at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay okay, jeez, ow,” Richie complains.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie lets him go, heart beating fast.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie rubs at the back of his head. “Jeez, you’ve got quite the grip.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s a technique to pulling hair,” Eddie says. “Bend down a little.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie does, leaning on the back of the couch to keep his balance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want to slide your hand, palm open, fingers spread,” Eddie says, doing it as he explains, “Through the hair. And then when you’ve got a good balance of hair between all your fingers, you form a fist.” He does it slowly, knuckles rolling against the side of Richie’s head. “And then you’ve got a good grip without putting too much strain on any specific strand. You can pull quite hard without pulling out any hair. Want to see?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie yanks hard, and Richie yelps, nearly falling off the couch. His long legs sprawl for a moment before he catches himself, and Eddie grabs his shoulder to help, laughing despite himself. “See?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I see,” Richie says, clearing his throat as he regains his balance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I warned you,” Eddie chuckles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not that you were gonna throw me off the couch!” Richie protests.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re still on the couch, aren’t you?” Eddie teases. “Sorry, I thought you had a better foothold.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie mutters at him darkly, rubbing at the side of his head where Eddie had pulled his hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, you don’t always have to be violent,” Eddie says. “A lot of Domming can be very gentle. There’s certain touches the human body just reacts to easily.” He lays the tips of his fingers on the side of Richie’s jaw and turns his face to look at him. “This sort of touch, for example, can work just as well to direct your focus as pulling your hair.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhmm,” Richie says, adjusting his glasses again. Eddie probably should have been more aware of them when tugging Richie over. He seems to be extremely aware of them - given how bad his eyesight must be for them to be as thick as they are, Eddie is hardly surprised. “Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Eddie says. “Sorry, should I be more careful with your glasses?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh?” Richie says, hand freezing halfway up to his face to adjust them again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I sort of got them skewed when I pulled your hair,” Eddie says, “and you’ve been adjusting them a lot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Richie says, dropping his hand. “Yeah, I don’t know, I guess it’s just a habit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Eddie says, automatically cupping Richie’s cheek to make him look at Eddie. “This isn’t a scene, but we’re treating it like one. If you’re worried about your glasses, that’s a perfectly reasonable boundary for you to set, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah, I’m good,” Richie says, his voice a little quieter than usual. He clears his throat and readjusts. “It’s just hard not to be aware of something that’s been half your face since you were four. Trust me, these puppies were always this big. Took me a while to grow into ‘em.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie wants so badly to see what a tiny Richie looked like with those massive, thick frames, but Richie seems self conscious about it, so he just nods understandingly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Trust me, though, I’ve broken so many glasses that I nearly made my mother cry,” Richie says. “Even if you knock ‘em off I’ll be peachy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie snorts. “Okay. Just be sure to tell me if I’m doing something you don’t like, got it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you using your Dom voice on me?” Richie says, grinning. “Why I never!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie sighs. “And while we’re talking about touches on your jaw being a great way to direct someone’s attention, I should also note that they don’t have to be gentle.” He switches his grip to wrap around Richie’s jaw and press slightly on his throat and squeezes. “This also works just fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah?” Richie asks, Adam’s apple bobbing against Eddie’s wrist as he strangles down laughter. “You sure?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie squishes his face until he makes a fish-y face. Richie uses this as an opportunity to make some kissy noises at him, and then they’re both laughing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie draws his hand away, trying to get serious again, but it’s hard when Richie waggles his brows every time he sees Eddie’s mouth curl around the edge of a laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They finally trail off, Richie adjusting his glasses again. “Ah, shit, now I’m super aware of that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Eddie says. “Let’s keep talking about touches, maybe that’ll distract you.” He puts his hands on Richie’s shoulders and turns him. “A firm grip on your shoulder can have quite the effect.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my,” Richie says in a Southern drawl. “What kind of girl do you think I am?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just wait until next time when I put you on your knees,” Eddie fires back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That manages to startle Richie into a moment of silence, eyes wide, and then they’re laughing again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s at this point that Eddie knows for sure: this arrangement is going to be difficult.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>join me next week when richie is such a disaster my beta had to stop reading for a while until i told her it would be okay</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>posting on 4/20 and i don't even have a single weed reference in this chapter... unbelievable</p><p>anyway the first scene of this chapter is actually explicit so heads up. (also now seems like a good time to mention this fic will be bottom richie and would like to gently ask that people don't ask about me writing switching/bottom eddie. it's not a discourse thing, it's just me and my own gender issues.)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Richie is 99% sure that Eddie didn’t intend to have Richie think this much about the way he’d said, </span>
  <em>
    <span>put you on your knees,</span>
  </em>
  <span> in the week between their meetings. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But here Richie is, playing video games while Bev and Stan are out and still thinking about being on his knees in front of Eddie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pauses the game and sighs. He checks his watch. He’s got some time before Bev or Stan get home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” he groans, and goes to his room, locking the door behind himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gets on the bed and grabs his bottle of lube and then contemplates how to do this. He ends up putting the lube next to him and then getting on his knees on the bed (Eddie had said it so </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking casually)</span>
  </em>
  <span> with his face in the pillows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lubes up his fingers and then lays there for a while, hands between his knees, contemplating his life choices.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s never fingered himself, yet here he is. He’s going to do it because Eddie told him that he’s going to put him on his knees. He’s going to have to go face Eddie (on his knees) tomorrow after jerking it to the thought of being there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck it,” Richie mutters, and puts his lubed up fingers to his hole.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s colder than he was expecting, and he curses, fingers slipping back to the bed. This position might not be the best for this, he thinks, but the way the angle pushes his face into the pillows is too good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He imagines Eddie’s hand, fisted in his hair, pushing his face down into those pillows and moans. He tries to clear his mind. No thinking about Eddie. Just because Eddie is gay and does this BDSM shit for a living doesn’t mean that Richie can fucking masturbate to him all willy-nilly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s just, like, maybe exploring the concept of being on his knees for this sort of thing. And also he’s entertaining the possibility of maybe wanting to see what something (totally not Eddie’s dick) feels like inside him. Like, independently of Eddie saying stuff about him being on his knees. So what if Richie only started thinking about this after hearing Eddie’s Dom voice? How would Richie even know if Eddie’s a top or not? Are all Doms tops? Probably not!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s not convincing himself at all, but no distractions are working and he thinks maybe he just needs to get this out of his system.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He kneads at the puckered skin, working his fingers between his cheeks and sliding them down to his perineum. Oh, man, that feels good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pushes the tip of his finger in, experimentally, and takes deep breaths in, savoring the feeling as he prods and tests the stretch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He works one finger in, nice and slow, moaning as he manages to get it pumping. Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck,</span>
  </em>
  <span> it feels good. He should have tried this earlier. Why hasn’t he tried this before?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, right, he’s a six-foot-tall, loud jackass as far in the closet as it gets, that’s why.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” he groans, adding a second finger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He moves them sloppily, trying to get a good angle, but it’s like trying to scratch an itch he just barely can’t reach. It feels so good, but never quite </span>
  <em>
    <span>there.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He sobs into the pillows as he thrusts his fingers and his hips, on the verge of madness. So, </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> close but just not quite. He whines and removes his fingers, rolling onto his back and squeezing some more lube onto his hand to take his cock into hand instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s so very hard, he’s immediately gasping and close and sprawled over the sheets, and as the pleasure is cresting, he imagines Eddie between his legs, calmly explaining, “See, you’re going to need to touch the prostate to really make it pleasurable,” and then he’s gone, heels digging into the bed as he comes with a cry, spilling all over his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He struggles to catch his breath, shoving his hand into his hair, forgetting that he’s smearing jizz into it until it’s too late and he’s going to have to wash his hair anyway. “Fuck,” he mutters to the ceiling. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Fuck.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>**</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The stupid “on time” razzing got to him, and Richie doesn’t even know how. He’s a fairly punctual person, to the surprise of many, but knowing that it’s a Dom Thing with Eddie has Richie arriving ten minutes early and then walking around Eddie’s block to kill the time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe he’s hoping Eddie will praise him for it or something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Maybe he should hire Eddie for real. And then, like, probably die of the sheer embarrassment of being known.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rubs his hands over his face and when he pulls them away, he sees Eddie nearly crash a car into the curb as he vaults out and races up the steps, covered in motor oil. Richie watches, overjoyed that he’s had the privilege of witnessing this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He waits a few minutes, then heads up the stairs and rings the doorbell right on time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie wrenches the door open, hair wet and only mostly combed, dressed in a clean white shirt. He’s spotless and only a little bit breathless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You good?” Richie asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, why?” Eddie says, ushering him inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You just seem a little short of breath,” Richie says. “Were you jerking off?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was not,” Eddie snaps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I get it,” Richie says. “I’m a tall drink of cool water, right? Probably need to take the edge off before you have to take a look at me.” He winks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie scowls at him. “Absolutely not,” he says. “Work ran late and I was in a hurry to get ready on time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I know,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie narrows his eyes, then jabs an accusatory finger at him. “Were you </span>
  <em>
    <span>watching</span>
  </em>
  <span> me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, yes,” Richie says with a laugh. “Not in a creepy way, though, I just got here early and I wanted to be on time so I was taking a walk around your building.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie gives him a funny look.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shit.</span>
  </em>
  <span> That was way too much. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Way way </span>
  </em>
  <span>too much. “You know, don’t need to give you more reasons to bust my balls,” Richie says quickly. “Short guy like you probably already has so much pent up rage, you can barely function.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m average height, asshole,” Eddie snaps.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Nailed it,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Richie thinks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m flattered, though, I really am,” Richie says. “People don’t often run to be on time to see me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, well, I like being punctual with this sort of thing,” Eddie says. “It doesn’t exactly inspire confidence if your Dom is running late all the time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie nods wisely. He knows this is a thing of Eddie’s that has very little to do with Richie, but he takes the win - he’s not kidding about the number of people willing to run for him. Bev would probably die for him, but she wouldn’t run. Stan’s punctual as all hell, but he wouldn’t run to maintain it, especially not for Richie, who would </span>
  <em>
    <span>love</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be able to tease Stan for being more than ten minutes late to anything. Seeing Eddie racing up his stairs even to maintain appearances for Richie has him feeling oddly warm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anyway, come inside and let’s get to it. Once I’ve started an actual arrangement with a sub, I try to get them kneeling the moment they get in the door so we can establish a--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie’s knees have already hit the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Did not nail it,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thinks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie stares at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just getting that out of the way,” Richie says. “Go on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Eddie says, slowly. Richie wants the floor to swallow him up. “So it… it puts the sub into a good headspace while I’m explaining how the scene will go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhmm,” Richie says, trying to sound academic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t know if he’s selling it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought today we could talk about bondage,” Eddie says, still watching Richie closely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okie dokie,” Richie says, academically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie gives him one last long stare, then goes off to get a small bundle of cloth. He unrolls it and neatly lays out a pair of handcuffs and several tightly wound coils of rope.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So there’s a few ways to do bondage,” Eddie says. He lifts the handcuffs. “The fuzzy handcuffs are a big BDSM staple, but I don’t like them as much. It’s easy to put on, but the metal can dig into your wrists and be uncomfortable, even cause damage if you’re pushing them too hard. You want to get the right kind and make sure they’re snug but not painful. I’ll show you in a second, but first: safewords?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Red is stop, yellow is slow, green is go,” Richie says, bursting at the seams with curiosity over what the handcuffs feel like.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie nods and wraps the cold metal around Richie’s hand with a click. Richie makes a face, and Eddie laughs. “Yeah. Cold and hard. Some people like it that way, but I think there’s better things. Plus, if you’re using them in a sexual scene and you lose the keys, you’re stuck naked and waiting for a locksmith.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie grins at that. “Well, there’s worse ways to spend your Friday, eh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie laughs. “Not many, but yeah, probably.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He unlocks the cuffs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, what I prefer is rope bondage. There are a few different kinds of rope you can use, depending on what the sub prefers. Some people like a coarser rope, maybe some burns and marks, other people don’t want discomfort at all,” Eddie continues. “Hold out your forearms?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I only have two, but okay,” Richie says as he holds them out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie groans and picks up a length of rope, electing to ignore Richie. Richie grins to himself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Success. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Natural rope is a little rougher on your skin, but it’s stronger, so if you end up doing any kind of suspension, it’s a lot safer. This kind gets more flexible over time.” He runs it over the skin on the inside of Richie’s wrist. “Feel that? If you’re tied up with that for a while, you’ll have marks for a few days.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kinky,” Richie laughs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“By definition,” Eddie retorts, picking up another rope and stroking it over Richie’s skin as well. “This one is cotton. Also pretty strong, but much softer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie is getting goosebumps from the soft, cool material sliding over his skin. He nods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And this is nylon,” Eddie says, showing him  in the same way. This one is even cooler. “It’s flexible and soft, which makes it a really good beginner rope. Can I show you a basic knot with this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Eddie says. “Wrists together?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie obliges, palms up, and Eddie spreads one hand to keep his wrists balanced as he starts looping it around Richie’s wrists, one at a time. He’s narrating the process as he goes, but after a moment it slides into the background, a comforting white noise for the lull Richie’s entering. Richie’s too focused on the way his thumb curls comfortingly around Richie’s wrist and his hand stays firmly under his arms, keeping his wrists up as the nylon slides against his skin, loop by loop to pay attention to what, specifically, Eddie is saying about those loops. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Richie?” Eddie asks, and Richie looks up, blinking hard. He’s startled by his own name, a bit like he wasn’t aware he was still present.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” he manages, feeling a little fuzzy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie frowns at him. “Color?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, um, green?” Richie manages, confused at the question. It seems like an odd moment to quiz him, but Eddie’s slipping his thumb into a loop to undo the nice, neat knots around Richie’s arms in one go. “Sorry, I zoned out there for a second.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” Eddie says, putting his hands on Richie’s shoulders and steering him onto the couch. “Sit here, let me get you some water.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay?” Richie says, slumping back into the couch as Eddie goes and returns with a glass of water and a Reese’s peanut butter cup.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie’s even more confused, but he won’t say no to free chocolate. He slips it into his mouth and drains the cup and then looks at Eddie questioningly. “Did I do something weird?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, it was very normal,” Eddie says, gently. “You know how I talk about putting subs in the right headspace?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, that was it,” Eddie says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Richie says. He’d felt fuzzy, in a nice way, but in retrospect it was maybe more than he usually zones out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t think you’d actually… uh… get there,” Eddie says. “But it’s not an issue. Like I say, all this stuff can get really intense really fast.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie slides his glass onto the table, trying to come up with excuses or jokes to smooth this over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie puts a hand on his thigh to steady him. “It’s fine. Seriously. I had you pegged for more of a dominant personality, but it’s okay if you’re not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie wants to laugh. Him? Not a dominant personality? The first thing he does in a conversation is make sure he’s noticed and heard until people are sick of him. And then some more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But this feels different. Maybe because it’s more intimate. Maybe because he likes Eddie.  Maybe he wants to brave the mortifying ordeal of being known for once in his goddamn life because this cute trainwreck of a man seems to find him at least sort of amusing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Richie says. “So I went down, like, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> fast, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie sighs. “Honestly? Yeah. I should have probably paused things when I said I ask subs to kneel and you went down like a felled tree.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie lets out a strangled noise that’s trying to be a laugh. “Yeah, that was super embarrassing, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Eddie says. “Some people just respond to this sort of thing well. Totally normal, I promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhmm,” Richie says, swallowing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But,” Eddie says, “it does mean we need to revisit our arrangement.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie’s stomach twists.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, I can explain this stuff to you without doing it on you,” Eddie says. “But, and I’m not trying to coerce you into anything here, I think you might enjoy trying this stuff for real.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie’s brain splits in half. One side is screaming </span>
  <em>
    <span>yeah!</span>
  </em>
  <span> while the other is screaming </span>
  <em>
    <span>no!</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Um.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t have to be me,” Eddie says. “I know several very nice Dominatrixes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie’s mind does a weird maneuver at the idea that Eddie’s totally pegged him for a sub and he doesn’t even know he’s gay. Because of course there’s straight male subs, right? That’s why Dominatrixes are a thing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But a childhood full of slurs and humiliation stands between him and several very obvious solutions, so he just shakes his head and lies. “Noooo, siree,” he says. “I do </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> want to tell anyone else about how I ‘went down like a felled tree’.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Eddie says. “That’s fine. You don’t have to try anything. Or I can Dom for you, if that makes it easier for you. Like I say, it absolutely does not have to be sexual.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You Dom for straight guys often?” Richie asks sarcastically. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re not straight, you coward!</span>
  </em>
  <span> his brain shouts at him, but to no avail.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not often,” Eddie says, “but it’s happened. I’ve also Dommed for some very nice lesbians. Sometimes lesbian couples, straight couples… As long as you feel safe and comfortable, it really doesn’t matter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie chuckles to himself. Doing mildly sexual things with a dude without having to come out or actually have the balls to do the sex? Isn’t that what Richie’s been waiting for all his life? “Sure,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, no,” Eddie says. “You can’t give me a halfhearted answer. Do you feel safe and comfortable with me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie groans. “Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For sure?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Richie says, a bit more confidently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Eddie says. “Good. Do you want me to Dom you for real?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Richie mumbles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>sure?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I’m sure!” Richie snaps. “It’s just embarrassing, okay?” He smacks Eddie’s hand away from his thigh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie nods. “It’s okay,” he says. “I know. I know it can be really scary to let go and really weird to want to anyway. Look, take the week to think it over, and if you change your mind, no problem. I’ll give you the rundown on safety and that’s it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie scrapes together all the bravery he’s been unable to muster this whole time and blurts, “Can we still be friends? I know we haven’t really spent a huge amount of time together, but you’re really fun to be around and I liked hanging out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie blinks at him for a moment, then smiles. “Yeah. We can be friends, either way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie lets out a breath. “Okay. So then… next week…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know what?” Eddie says getting up and getting the contract they’d filled out together. “Back to square one. Put some thought into what you’d be willing to try and we’ll do a regular first scene, if you’re still interested.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Richie says, carefully taking the paper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you should stay over until you feel less jittery,” Eddie says. “We probably didn’t do enough for it, but you can experience what’s called a drop if you let your mood plummet after a scene. It’s depression on steroids. Kind of like… a scene hangover.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie nods. “Okay.” He takes a long breath. “Wanna watch Muppet Treasure Island? It’s a banger, I swear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You would say so,” Eddie says, gesturing at all of him and getting Richie giggling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>**</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I make bad choices,” Richie mumbles, planting his face into Bev’s lap when he gets home to groan into it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anything I should be worried about?” Bev asks, turning the TV down as she strokes his hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rolls over so he’s looking at the TV. “No,” he says. “Probably not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very comforting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie sighs. “You ever have a secret you’re like 99.999% sure would be fine to tell your friends, but, like, you’re not </span>
  <em>
    <span>positive</span>
  </em>
  <span> so you can’t? Even though it’d probably be better to just get it off your chest? But like, maybe it’d be a problem and your friends would be pissed or disappointed or maybe would just give up on you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Bev says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, seriously?” Richie asks. “No way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, way,” Bev says. “You don’t have a monopoly on abandonment issues, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you’re…” Richie says. “Kind and kickass and pretty and smart.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So are you,” she retorts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why would you lie to me like that?” Richie asks. “I know I’m not pretty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, well, you’re certainly… smart,” she says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That long pause is the most honest thing you’ve said to me,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No it’s not,” she says. “I’m teasing. You’re fun and clever and loyal. And you’re good looking, I swear. Just because you have bad glasses…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And buck teeth and a dopey nose and a stupid-ass smile and…” Richie says, until she puts a hand over his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Beep beep, Richard,” she says. “I’m serious. You can tell me or Stan anything. Granted, Stan might be dramatic for a bit, but he’d never give up on you. Ever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, are you gonna tell me?” she asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes a really deep breath. For one bright, terrifying, hopeful and awful moment, he thinks he might, but then he misses the mark and plummets back down to, “Eventually.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But everything’s okay, right?” she pushes. “Seriously, you’re safe?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And comfortable,” Richie says, forcing a smile onto his face. “Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nods. “Okay.” She ruffles his hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are we watching?” he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Desperate housewives,” she replies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ooh, garbage!” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>**</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the morning, he wakes up feeling, if nothing else, determined. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He texts Eddie, </span>
  <b>
    <em>Hey, I’m still in, embarrassment and all, </em>
  </b>
  <span>and then takes a long look at the contract.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Most of what they’d left blank is about roles and fantasies. Which, honestly, Richie fantasies have always revolved around being able to hold a boy’s hand without guilt or threat of violence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tries to imagine Eddie doing this sort of thing. He ends up thinking about them both being naked, but Eddie told him to do this so he can’t be blamed for a few missteps into sexual territory. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s okay, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he tells himself. He doesn’t believe it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie texts him back, </span>
  <b>
    <em>Glad to hear it. Seriously. See you Friday.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie smiles to himself and almost writes down, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I want to be told it’s okay,</span>
  </em>
  <span> but how does he explain the inherent guilt if not by coming out? If his conversation with Bev is any indication, he’s not ready to come out, and when he’s ready he’s going to tell Bev and Stan first and not some kink worksheet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He writes down, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I want to be told I’m doing okay.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Straight guys have performance anxiety, right? Very straight. Very, very straight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That awful circle around </span>
  <em>
    <span>heterosexual</span>
  </em>
  <span> taunts him, but he ignores it, staring at that one measley sentence. And then, suddenly, it all comes spilling out. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I want to be noticed and I want to be touched. I like having my hair pulled. I like the Dom voice. I like being on my knees. I just want things to be less pressure, I want to stop needing to demand attention while also sabotaging myself with my own cravings for it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He does end up borrowing some white-out from Stan to pare it down to the bare bones instead of the weird confessional it’s become.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He texts Eddie, </span>
  <b>
    <em>do you give out gold stars for doing my homework?</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie doesn’t text back for a while. Richie’s not entirely surprised. He has an extra work phone, he probably doesn’t engage in banter on it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He slides the contract under his socks and goes about his day until, about an hour later he gets a text from Eddie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a selfie of Eddie in the grocery store with a page of gold star stickers.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>I do now.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie giggles, saving the picture to his phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>**</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He feels satisfied with himself for about 24 hours before he finally has to take a picture of his answers and send it to Eddie. </span>
  <b>
    <em>is this enough?</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Is that white-out?</em>
  </b>
  <span> Eddie replies with alarming speed.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>so maybe i waxed poetic about my insecurities, get off my dick, </em>
  </b>
  <span>Richie replies, pacing back and forth for a moment before adding, </span>
  <b>
    <em>should i put it back?</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Will it make it easier for me to be a good Dom for you?</em>
  </b>
  <span> Eddie asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie groans and flops back onto his bed. </span>
  <b>
    <em>maybe?</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>You’re overthinking this.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Call me.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie panics a little bit at that. Does that mean he’s in trouble? Is he ready to talk to Eddie? He’s sitting in his bedroom in his boxers, should he put on pants?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He closes his bedroom door and curls up on the bed, knees up to his chest like he’s a 12-year-old girl, and calls Eddie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi,” he manages.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The valedictorian is cheating on his homework already,” Eddie says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, fuck you,” Richie says. “You told me to call. If you revoke my gold star for this, I’m suing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you’ve earned the gold star fair and square,” Eddie laughs. “Anyway. I might be a little slow, I’m working while I talk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie imagines him covered in motor oil, his hands doing… something precise, probably. He can’t for the life of him remember anything that goes on under a car hood except maybe changing the oil, but it’s sexy to think of Eddie unscrewing the oil thingy’s cap with his deft hands with the broad palms and small fingers, leaning under the hood of a big, shiny truck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ooh, what kind of car are you working on?” he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, man, she’s actually a beauty,” Eddie says. “She’s a 1969 Boss 429 Mustang and she’s got an engine like a racehorse. You know you’ve got a powerful car when they have to change the body just to accommodate the engine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh-huh,” Richie says, trying not to think about Eddie explaining this to him while pinning his hands above his head in the backseat. (If there is a backseat. Mustangs generally aren’t sports cars, right?)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?” Eddie asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely not a clue,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Eddie says. “Well, it’s a car worth a couple hundred thousand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow, so I’m sharing your attention with a rockstar, huh?” Richie says. “Tell me honestly, if you had a trolley--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would immediately murder you for this car,” Eddie says, before Richie can finish.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie laughs. “Okay, fair enough. So are you gonna help me cheat on my homework or not, teach?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Eddie says, dropping his voice. It’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>quite</span>
  </em>
  <span> the Dom voice, but it is soothing. “Look. It doesn’t have to be a therapy session. You don’t have to tell me everything about your childhood. But if it’s something that helps me, you can tell me. Full confidentiality.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, well, I just…” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said you want to be told you’re doing okay,” Eddie says. “Let’s focus on that. Do you mean you want to be flattered? Do you want to feel like you’re the best sub on the planet? Or do you just want to feel like I’m satisfied with you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, clearly I’m the best sub on the planet,” Richie says. “Anyone can see that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rich.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His voice is tender, but firm all the same.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie’s stomach twists. “The second one,” he admits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Eddie says. “Is there anything specific that would help you feel that way? Or any reason why you wouldn’t?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh,” Richie says. “I mean, you’ve heard the words that come out of my mouth, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I sure have,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>annoying,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought it was on purpose,” Eddie says, lightly teasing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It </span>
  <em>
    <span>is,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Richie says. “But…” His throat catches, and he can’t explain what he means. There’s a weird, jagged chasm between being noticed and being seen, and Richie’s constantly balanced between the two, stuck and never getting it right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Eddie says. “I’m going to run a few thoughts by you. Don’t feel compelled to agree to any of them if they don’t speak to you, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I feel very un-coerced,” Richie tells him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie sighs. “Okay, so I’m guessing you don’t want to be a mouthy sub, despite--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My personality, yes,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you’d prefer to be a good, sweet sub, but it’s going to take some help,” Eddie says. “Still with me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie swallows down a joke about how herculean a task that would be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Richie?” Eddie asks. “Is this still okay? I’m going to need an honest answer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Richie manages. “Yeah, I’m just trying not to evade the question by being self-deprecating.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow,” Eddie says. “That was very self-aware, very well done.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh boy,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Richie thinks, nearly crying at the praise. “Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whew, okay, because that was all my self-control for like a month,” Richie says. “Next thing you know I’m gonna be texting you about how many marshmallows I can cram in my mouth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie snorts. “Okay, well, let’s not let your single act of restraint go to waste. Without being self-deprecating, how does my idea sound?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, good,” Richie says. “I mean. Yeah. Yeah, I want…” He swallows. “I wanna be good during scenes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Eddie says. “We can make that happen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, by gagging me?” Richie asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t sound like you’d like that,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie’s had shit shoved in his mouth to shut him up before. Relatively, it was better than most bullying, because it was the only way he was able to shut up for long enough that he didn’t get himself murdered with his big mouth. Overall, though… “No,” he mumbles. “But you’ve seen how hard it is to shut me up. It’s not any better when I’m trying, just so you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hang on, let me go to my desk so I can take some notes,” Eddie says. Richie can hear a thud and some shuffling in the background. “But trust me, I don’t need a gag to shut you up. We just need to be clear on what works for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you say so,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, so you don’t want to be gagged,” Eddie says. “But you want to be kept from being a mouthy sub. Is it just gags, or do you feel that way about most punishments?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess,” Richie says. “I mean, I don’t know, maybe I could get into, like, spanking or some shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, so that’s a maybe,” Eddie says. “But you’re not enthusiastic about it, so we’re not going to start there. We’ll focus on positive reinforcement.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ooh, talk dirty to me,” Richie says. “Also no offense but that seems like sticking your finger in the hole to plug the dam or whatever that Dutch story is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should have heard how sweet you sounded when I said very well done in an authoritative tone,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” Richie blurts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There you go again,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie’s tearing up. “Ah, fuck, now you’re just embarrassing me,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie chuckles. “Okay. I’ll ease up. But my point is, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> doing okay. You’ll be very sweet for me on Friday, won’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Unless I fuck it up,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Richie thinks. “I’ll do my best, Spaghetti,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie sighs. “We’ll work on it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie grins, glad to have something to joke about so he doesn’t start crying on the phone before they even get to a real scene. “My nicknames aren’t sweet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely not,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m wounded,” Richie whines.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Eddie says. “This was good. You did a good job, talking to me today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie has to take a moment to process that. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Two</span>
  </em>
  <span> gold stars?” he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Three gold stars,” Eddie says. “Feel free to text me some more, okay? I’ll see you Friday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Richie says, feeling proud and overwhelmed all at once. “Yeah. I will.” He pauses. “Can I text you about other stuff too, because I think Stan is making friends with a pigeon roosted under the neighbor’s window and it is </span>
  <em>
    <span>quality</span>
  </em>
  <span> entertainment. He has named her Harriet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would love to hear about your roommate’s pigeon adventures,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cool,” Richie replies. “See you Friday, then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eight o’clock,” Eddie says. “Sharp.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be there,” Richie says, narrowly avoiding saying </span>
  <em>
    <span>Love you</span>
  </em>
  <span> as he hangs up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He flops back onto the bed like a starfish and lets out a flustered giggle. “Sweet. Me. Okay,” he mutters to the ceiling, but dammit if he doesn’t feel at least a little curious how that’s going to pan out on Friday.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>me adding subtle little indications of feelings: DID YOU GET IT. DID YOU SEE THE THING. MAYBE I SHOULD POINT IT OUT. HOPE,  WAS THIS CLEAR ENOUGH. HOPE.</p><p>join me next week when eddie shuts richie up with positive reinforcement</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>some mild warnings for talk of eddie's mom, bev's dad, suicide, the death of eddie's father... none of it is in detail but there's a few heavier conversations in this chapter</p><p>but on the other hand... :3c</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Richie is arriving at his house in one hour, and Eddie is fine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He watches the second hand tick on. And on. And on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t know when he got this invested in Richie Tozier and he doesn’t care for it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He paces around the room once. Then twice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks at the clock. Not even a full minute has passed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He groans and gets himself a bowl of ice cream, eats it slowly and washes his hands thoroughly to make sure they’re not sticky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s been five minutes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can’t take this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He just wants to </span>
  <em>
    <span>know.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>curious,</span>
  </em>
  <span> is all, because Richie is such a coarse, loud person and then the moment Eddie presses him on what he wants, he wants to be sweet and constantly reassured? What the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It would be easier if he was mouthy. In what world is Richie Tozier </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> a mouthy sub? Mouthy is his entire personality. Maybe they’ll come back around to that once Richie gets his footing as a sub. Maybe. After all, Richie seemed as surprised as Eddie to find he subbed so easily. Maybe he doesn’t know how to deal with it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At this point, it feels almost completely random how Richie will react to a proper scene. Maybe that’s what has Eddie feeling so nervous about it. (He knows that’s not true, but he tells himself that all the same.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sits down on the couch and watches the minutes drag by.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the doorbell rings, he nearly trips over his own feet to get to it, barely composing himself as he opens the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie stares at him, looking just as (if not more) nervous than Eddie feels, which, frankly, gets Eddie back on track. He’s the Dom here. He’s meant to be guiding Richie through this. This is his first real time subbing, after all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do…” Richie says, eyeing Eddie. The way he’d sunk to his knees easily last time he was here lingers at the back of Eddie’s mind. “Do you want me to…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He points at the floor inside the doorway, and his left knee wobbles, ready for the slightest indication that it’s what Eddie’s asking for.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t rush,” Eddie says gently, getting his hand on the small of Richie’s back and pushing him inside so he can close the door. “I’ll tell you when to do what.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Richie says, shoulders relaxing a little. “Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Papers?” Eddie asks, holding out a hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie unfolds them from his jacket pocket and hands them over, then adjusts his glasses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Eddie says, laying them on the coffee table. “Jacket off.” Richie follows his lead easily, shrugging off the jacket and checking with Eddie before hanging it up. Eddie nods slightly, sliding his hand up Richie’s elbow to grip his bicep. “Well done. Now, let’s just sit you down here,” Eddie murmurs, steering Richie onto the couch and pushing him down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie’s eyes stay on him the whole time. “So, how about those gold stars, eh?” he manages.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the average person, it’d still sound brash. For Richie, he sounds downright timid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie smiles and goes to get the sheet of stickers, pressing a few to the contract and then one to Richie’s cheek, hoping it’ll make Richie laugh and relax a little so they’re not both so tense. Richie lets him, eyes wide.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Eddie says. After a moment’s thought, he places a hand on Richie’s knee as he picks up the contract and pages through it. The sooner they get into the groove, the better. “So, since you’ve been so good as to text me about this all week…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What can I say, the valedictorian is a teacher’s pet,” Richie says, eyes glued to Eddie’s hand on his knee. Maybe it’s too much, but Richie seems like the sort who needs an anchor. Some reassurance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie ignores his joking and gets right to the point. “Since we’ve been talking on the phone, I think we can skip any more discussion and get right into a scene. We’ll take it very easy today, don’t worry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I recall, you were gonna make me sweet and quiet,” Richie drawls. “You sure you’re up for it?” He thinks he’s being subtle, but this is the part Eddie is actually familiar with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Give me your safewords,” Eddie says, sitting up straight and meeting Richie’s eyes with his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie gives him a startled look, as if to say, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh God already?</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Green is peachy, yellow is not so fast buddy, red is do not pass go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie sighs. Normally he’d ask for clear, certain terms with a fair amount of seriousness, but he gets the feeling that for Richie that demand would send him spiraling. “I’ll allow it,” he says. Richie is certainly going to require a unique approach. “We’re going to try this: you only speak when spoken to. Got it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ha,” Richie says, sounding almost proud of himself for being a tough case. “People have tried that one before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie presses his hand under Richie’s jaw, thumb wedged under his chin and turns his face to look at Eddie. “You’re not going to be in trouble if you fail. But you told me you want to be good. Don’t you want to be good?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie’s Adam’s apple bobs. “Yeah, I guess, but…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When I ask, I want yes or no answers unless I tell you otherwise. Do you want to be good for me?” He tilts Richie’s head back so Richie’s looking at him through his lashes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Richie says, then literally bites his tongue. Eddie is already enjoying this challenge. Richie really is trying, and that means no matter how much Eddie has to adapt, it’s not going to be an uphill battle.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Very</span>
  </em>
  <span> good,” Eddie says. “See? You’re already putting in the effort to follow the rules.” Richie rolls his eyes as if to say, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jeez, let’s not get carried away, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but Eddie ignores it. “Let’s talk rewards.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“More gold stars?” Richie teases, swallowing a little.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That wasn’t a question,” Eddie points out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie’s face falls. “Sorry,” he says, immediately, almost following it up with another joke to brush off the disappointment he probably feels at himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was also not a question,” Eddie interjects, but he shifts his hand so he’s cupping Richie’s cheek, providing some reassurance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie can see how close Richie comes to apologizing again, lips twisting into the start of a self-deprecating smile, but he catches himself and stares at Eddie, waiting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perfect,” Eddie says, genuinely proud. “You’ve got it already.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can see Richie struggle not to chime in with something, a small, petulant squirm rippling down his legs. He’s bad at accepting praise. That’s going to be hard, since it’s also the number one thing he wants. Eddie is looking forward to it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Eddie says. “Ready? Give me three things that you would enjoy as a reward for being good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, um,” Richie says, slightly thrown off by being asked to speak so soon after being told not to. “I guess when you pulled my hair, that was nice. But the gentle one, not when you threw me off the couch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie snorts. “That’s one.” He holds up a finger to display it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess just regular ol’ praise?” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie holds up a second finger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie blinks at him. “I can’t think of a third thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s check your list and come up with something together,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie pauses. “Is that… was that a question? Shit, am I allowed to…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, fair enough. Yes, genuine questions to clarify my orders are allowed, at least for this scene, and we can negotiate that rule once you’ve had some practice,” Eddie says. “Otherwise I won’t be doing a good job helping you be good, will I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No?” Richie guesses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Eddie says softly. “And no, that first one was not a question. But the second one was. Very well done.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Boy, if all it takes to be good at this subbing thing is just…” Richie blurts, then says, “Fuck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie laughs despite himself. “It’s okay. We’ll keep at it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie groans. “I’m bad at this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you’re new to it,” Eddie assures him. “And also: I didn’t ask a question.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie sighs and mimes zipping his mouth and throwing away the key. Eddie is curious to see how long that lasts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, you like bondage, you like praise. You like being claimed.” That’s something to work with, but it doesn’t feel distinct enough from praise for them starting out. “Hair pulling…” He hums. “You like ice cream?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s planning on feeding Richie ice cream after the scene anyway, because it’s a good way to get his sugar up after coming down from that headspace, but Richie doesn’t have to know that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I--Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Eddie says. “Catching yourself is good.” Richie bites the inside of his cheek, face screwed up with concentration. Oh, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> doesn’t like accepting praise silently. Eddie tries not to grin. “So, if I’m satisfied with your performance, we’ll have some chocolate ice cream after the scene.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie visibly itches to respond.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good?” Eddie asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Richie says, relieved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Eddie says. “Color?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Green,” Richie says, then pauses. “Uh, question?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, is it green if I’m on board but I’m, like, worried about it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good question,” Eddie says. “You shouldn’t be uncomfortable, but some nerves are normal. What’s making you worried?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just don’t think I’m going to be good at this,” Richie admits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, well, I decide how good you’re being,” Eddie says. “Just do your best. And there’s no punishments if you make a mistake.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not gonna, like, fire me from being your sub?” Richie asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only if you try to axe murder me,” Eddie says, patting his thigh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, cool, I was going to use a knife,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aaaaand we’re shutting up again,” Eddie says, unable to keep from smiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie grins.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie squeezes his thigh and then gets up, grabbing one of the large pillows he keeps in his cabinet for this sort of thing and tossing it on the floor in front of the couch. “Kneel,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie has clearly been waiting for this all week, because he slides off the couch like a fish without a second thought. Eddie laughs and ruffles his hair, kneading at his scalp as he goes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie blushes, and Eddie gently murmurs, “Good,” as he gets behind Richie and sits on the couch, thumbing behind his ear for a moment. “Now we’re going to watch an episode of Sex and the City together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie’s head snaps around. “You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking</span>
  </em>
  <span> with me,” he says, and then claps a hand over his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie grins. He’d spent a while brainstorming shows just for that reaction. “Yes, I am. Problem?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie slowly lowers his hand. “No,” he says sulkily, and accepts Eddie’s gentle tugging of his hair as an apology.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie manages a surprisingly long time without saying anything after that. Eddie keeps playing with his hair, watching the time, paying attention to Richie’s body language. Something silly happens in the show, and Richie fidgets like he’s got a tarantula down his shirt. He all but whimpers in the back of his throat, hands twitching up like he’s not sure whether to cover his mouth or not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it you’d like to say, sweetheart?” Eddie asks, combing his hair back with both hands. He’d been a little surprised to see sweetheart on the list of names Richie wanted to be called, but then again, that’s probably why Richie had been drawn to it. There can’t be a lot of people who would think to use sweet little pet names like that for Richie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie glances back, flummoxed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie can hazard a guess about why the people who’ve “tried this before” didn’t get anywhere.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh,” Richie says, “I was going to say that there’s a real parallel here between the four leads in this show here and the ninja turtles, ‘cept for the ninja turtles one of them only does machines and here one of them… does everything. So… uh... ”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie snorts. Clearly being asked to make the joke threw off Richie’s comedic timing, which is the only thing his sense of humor has going for it. “I’m glad we got that out there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie pauses, looking Eddie up and down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go ahead,” Eddie says. “You’ve lasted this long, you’ve earned it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just shudder to think how you would have managed without that joke,” Richie says, and there’s something delightfully soft at how he reacts to being </span>
  <em>
    <span>told</span>
  </em>
  <span> to speak rather than the opposite. “I mean, god knows how important observational humor about the ninja turtles and being slutty is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhmm,” Eddie says indulgently, scratching his scalp. “The </span>
  <em>
    <span>teenage</span>
  </em>
  <span> mutant ninja turtles.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie leans into it, nodding quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>”It was very good of you to try to stay quiet, though,” Eddie says. “I’m proud of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Richie says, startled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie smiles and pulls his head back against Eddie’s thigh with a fist in his hair. “You’re getting the hang of this so quickly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie’s breath leaves his body and he relaxes into Eddie’s hold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It seems that’s all it takes. The next time he has something he really wants to say, he looks up at Eddie for permission. Eddie grants it. The joke is even more dumb than the last, like Richie’s testing him, but Eddie doesn’t budge, still stroking his hair firmly and praising him sporadically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie watches him suspiciously for a third joke before he finally realizes that these are in fact the rules, and relaxes against Eddie’s leg completely, tapping his knee occasionally when he’d like to speak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie starts the second episode without a single complaint. He ramps up his massaging of Richie’s scalp, hitting all the erogenous zones he can, kneading his thumbs into his neck and behind his ears until Richie is loose against him, sighing softly and completely quiet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After the second episode, Eddie turns off the TV and gets Richie upright again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie blinks up at him, dazed. He wrinkles his nose a little, a thought flashing across his face before he halts, waiting for Eddie’s permission.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it?” Eddie asks, putting his hands under Richie’s arms and lifting him onto the couch again. Richie helps him, sluggish.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Did we watch two episodes?” he asks blearily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhmm,” Eddie tells him. “And you were so good and quiet for the second one, weren’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can speak without permission now,” Eddie tells him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Richie says. He thinks about it for a moment. “Right. Um. So…” It takes him some thought. “Do I get that ice cream?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sure do,” Eddie says. “You were great. Stay here, I’ll be right back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Richie mumbles, leaning back against the couch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie gets a bowl of ice cream and some water for him. He gives Richie the water first. “Drink,” he says, and Richie guzzles it down before trading the cup for the bowl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie smiles and sits next to him to watch him eat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, holy shit,” Richie says, like he’s just registered the full situation. “I don’t think I’ve been that quiet for my entire life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“An astounding feat, really,” Eddie teases.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you a wizard?” Richie asks. “Can this technique be sold? We could make a fortune! There’s so many people who want to shut me up for a full two hours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just positive reinforcement,” Eddie says. “And I greased the door with some endorphins, maybe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So ixnay on the fortune-ay?” Richie asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you’re back,” Eddie chuckles. “Well done.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie grins. “Did you miss me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie rolls his eyes and ignores the question. “How do you feel?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really good, actually,” Richie says, giddy. “Like, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great,” Eddie says, breathing out a sigh of relief. “No regrets?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, I did just watch two hours of Sex and the City willingly,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie laughs. “Okay. Well, I’m glad. You’re genuinely very good at this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie pauses in his efforts to drain the bowl. “Like, for real? Not a </span>
  <em>
    <span>customer is always right</span>
  </em>
  <span> sort of deal?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For real,” Eddie says. “I’m saying this as a friend. You’re a great sub and I enjoyed this. I’m glad you did too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Richie says, preening a little. “Nice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He holds his hand up for a high five, and Eddie sticks a gold star on his other cheek instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>**</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Should I give Richie my personal phone number?” Eddie asks. “I mean, we hang out for non-work stuff, it just seems easier than putting him on the import list.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill gives him a strange look, but decides not to pick apart the fact that </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> is what Eddie’s concerned with right now. “Uh, s-sure, I guess. I mean, Bev has your personal number, right? And they’re close friends, so…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm,” Eddie says. “You’re right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He texts Richie, </span>
  <b>
    <em>Here’s my personal number: 995-7280. And before you get any ideas, I’m giving you this because I have to change my work phone due to extenuating circumstances.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>did you dom voice the extenuating circumstances again? </em>
  </b>
  <span>Richie replies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie swallows down a laugh, head shooting up to check that no one saw him. The courthouse they’re sitting in bustles on.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>No I didn’t. But I’m at the courthouse getting a restraining order so don’t make me laugh.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>Seconds tick by without any response, and Eddie’s chest squeezes. He knows it’s an awkward situation to try to respond to, but if he could rely on anyone to make this all seem less severe, he would have thought it would be Richie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just as he’s about to put his phone away and try to be in this shitty-ass moment, Richie sends him a selfie of himself standing next to a wall full of BDSM film props with a serious face. </span>
  <b>
    <em>who, me?</em>
  </b>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie bursts out laughing, then quickly blocks his number. A moment later, his other phone vibrates. Eddie doesn’t check it, but he can’t stop smiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All in all, filing a restraining order against his mother is a fairly painless process. It should be more upsetting, but for now it doesn’t feel bad at all. He hasn’t lived with his mother for years and people generally don’t have a lot of followup questions to </span>
  <em>
    <span>my mom faked my having asthma for years, had me swallow 15 sugar pills a day growing up, and several local emergency room staff have restraining orders against her for forcing them to attend to me when I wasn’t sick, so please give me one too.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Afterwards, Bill takes him out for dinner, and Eddie can finally check his phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie has sent him a picture of him holding a fake whip in between his upper lip and nose. </span>
  <b>
    <em>i mustache u… did u block me for making you laugh in a courthouse</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Definitely not, </em>
  </b>
  <span>Eddie replies, giggling a little.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>success! </em>
  </b>
  <span>A moment later he adds, </span>
  <b>
    <em>hey but seriously are you ok?</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Yeah I am, </em>
  </b>
  <span>Eddie replies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill clears his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie raises his brow. “What?” he asks. “He’s sadly kind of funny.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re texting Richie?” Bill asks, pointedly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Eddie says, prickling at the tone. “You said it was fine to give him my personal number.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re giving him l-lot of attention,” Bill points out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, maybe, but he needs a lot of attention,” Eddie says. “Seriously, this guy practically goes into subspace from being told he’s good at being a sub. How can I ignore that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill rolls his eyes. “Are you j-just avoiding the situation at hand?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Eddie says, at least 60% sure he means it. “I’ve fully come to terms with the fact that I’ve put out a restraining order against my mother.” He sighs. “Honestly at this point it’s a weight off my shoulders.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In that case,” Bill says, pushing his phone back to the table when Eddie gets another text from Richie and immediately goes to check it. “Eddie, please reassure me that you’re not falling for a straight guy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie snorts. “I’m not. I’ve never dated any of my clients, Bill, you know that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill gives him a look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Eddie asks, trying to shove aside how curious he is to see Richie’s text already. “Come on, Bill, I’m just… proud, is all. First real session and I got him completely out of it in less than an hour. I’m allowed to admire my work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Last time you admired your work this much you spent a day crying over a car,” Bill says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A </span>
  <em>
    <span>car? A CAR?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Eddie blurts, finally putting down his phone. “Bill, it was a 1966 Shelby 427 Cobra. Do you know how much they sell for, Bill? Do you know how much people would spend for that baby? It’s not just a car, the owner should have been </span>
  <em>
    <span>jailed</span>
  </em>
  <span> for letting her get dented like that and he’s lucky he gave it to me to fix because…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill raises a brow, unimpressed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I clearly do not have similar feelings about Richie,” Eddie says, clearing his throat. “I’d be surprised if anyone would pay a dime for him. So obviously, I am just admiring my own work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh-huh,” Bill says, giving Eddie a warning look. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Don’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> fall for the straight guy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not fucking falling for a straight guy,” Eddie mutters, carefully peeking at the five texts Richie has sent him. Only one is a dick joke, but on the other hand, the other is a selfie of Richie with a taco, clearly trying to cheer Eddie up over the restraining order matter. Eddie counts to ten before grabbing his phone to respond.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill sighs, unconvinced, but he lets it go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>**</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie’s calm lasts exactly 5 hours before, around midnight, reality hits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s put out a restraining order on his </span>
  <em>
    <span>mother.</span>
  </em>
  <span> If his mother comes to visit him, she could be </span>
  <em>
    <span>arrested.</span>
  </em>
  <span> (He tries to remind himself that if his mother visits, it’s because she’s hunted down his address. She’s not even supposed to know what </span>
  <em>
    <span>city</span>
  </em>
  <span> he’s living in, much less where he lives.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s about one careless second away from holding up a drugstore to give him God knows what medicine (he pedals through a multitude of illnesses, but he’s been away from Sonia Kaspbrak for too long to land on one specific batshit insane self-diagnosis) and so he does the only thing he can think to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Usually, he texts Bill, but at the end of the day, Eddie has been relying on Bill way too much today. And Bill doesn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> get it. His parents are a little absent, but they care, and he’s closer with his brother anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie’s teasing, </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh, so you have one friend?</span>
  </em>
  <span> gnaws at him as he opens up his messages.</span>
</p><p><b><em>Are you up? I need to talk to someone before I go crazy,</em></b> <span>he texts. </span><b><em>It’s about my mom.</em></b></p><p>
  <span>A moment later, he gets a response: an address and a quick, </span>
  <b>
    <em>come over.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>He mulls it over. Either he can do this or he can start roaming the nearest drug store staring at over the counter medications, itching and wheezing and wondering, </span>
  <em>
    <span>was she right? Should I be paying more attention to my health? What if I do get sick? What if I’m hospitalized and someone tells her? What if I’m trapped in the emergency room and she comes and finds me and tells me she was right all along?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck it,” he says, and finds some clean jeans, inputting the address into Google maps as he gets a jacket on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>**</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi,” Bev says. She’s got a devilish grin, one that is oddly comforting, despite all the mischief dancing in her eyes. “Come on in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She takes his jacket and hangs it up with all the various coats by the door. “I have roommates, but I’ve banned them from the kitchen and media areas at the moment,” she says. “They don’t always listen, but it’s the best privacy we’re gonna get. What’s up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um…” Eddie says. “Well, I filed a restraining order against my mother today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bev gives an understanding snort. “Want me to break out the wine?” she asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, yeah,” Eddie breathes. “Please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have a great blueberry wine,” she says, getting into the kitchen. “Uh, we don’t have wine glasses, but…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Honestly, I don’t care,” Eddie sighs. “I mean, I can’t say I’m not a finicky person, but…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you just filed a restraining order against your mom,” Bev says, nodding understandingly as she pours him a mug of wine. “Gotcha.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie smiles. “Yeah. Pretty much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You wanna talk about it?” Bev asks, grabbing a small, bird-themed plastic cup for her own wine. “Or we can just watch shit. I also have plenty of crazy stories if you’re interested in the fashion side of Hollywood.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She got my number,” Eddie blurts. “She’s not supposed to have it. And, given the fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>area code,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she knows roughly where I live, too, which she is also not supposed to know.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bev nods. “That’s got to be rough,” she says. “I don’t think my dad was ever sober enough to track me down. Once I got out, he just… kind of started living at the bar.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie sighs. It feels good to talk to someone with shared trauma. His therapist has asked him about group therapy a few times, but the closest Eddie comes to opening up to strangers is yelling his problems at tired pharmacy clerks. He’s always been pretty sure group therapy would end with him strangling some poor bastard who just wanted to help. “I feel bad,” he admits. “I didn’t, at first, because she really, really dug her own grave, but the more I think about it… She always… you know, she always framed everything as caring about me. I keep asking myself… what if that’s all she was trying to do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, well, so did my dad,” Bev says. “And uh… he did </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> mean well. He was violent and… you know… sexually...” She shakes her head, chuckling it off in an uncomfortable way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie snorts, with that bitter amusement that always seems to follow tragedy. “Alright, that’s a pretty good point.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You did the right thing,” she assures him. “Even if it’s hard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nods, feeling strangely at ease in her presence. He takes a few big gulps of the wine while she sits with him in comfortable silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, my dad died of a shellfish allergy?” Eddie remarks. He doesn’t think he’s even told Bill this, but he knows Bev will understand the weird wave of emotions that comes with the explanation. The odd pity for his mother mixed with anger for himself. “Just… some crab in his food he didn’t know about, and then he was gone. It was so senseless and </span>
  <em>
    <span>stupid.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It’s no wonder she lost her mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not your fault,” Bev says. “You’re not responsible for it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess so,” Eddie says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They sit there for a while, sipping wine until Eddie is dizzy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve tested myself for shellfish allergies </span>
  <em>
    <span>five times,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>he blurts finally. “Five times. I didn’t inherit it, apparently, but… it’s just… You know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bev nods. “My mom committed suicide,” she says. “And I…” She pauses, staring at her glass, then looks at him with a sad smile. “I mean, I get it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I bet,” he says. Helplessly, he bumps his shoulder against her hip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, for what it’s worth, this is a shellfish-free apartment,” Bev says, brightening up a little. He feels the same wave of relief that washes over her face, because at least they’re not </span>
  <em>
    <span>alone.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “My roommate and his girlfriend are Jewish.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” Eddie says. “Good to know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes twinkle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” he says, with the same dogged optimism. “Given the circumstances, I’m okay. It’s been years since I’ve seen her and the last time we talked she thought I was my boyfriend and called me a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot</span>
  </em>
  <span> of slurs, so no love lost there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s hard not to love your parent,” Bev says softly. “No matter what they do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie sighs. “Yeah, it is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re quiet for a while longer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am so glad I texted you instead of spiralling,” he admits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughs and fills his glass again. “Yeah, me too. Do you still need to vent or do you just want to finish this bottle and watch Queer Eye?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>love</span>
  </em>
  <span> Queer Eye,” Eddie says. “Let’s absolutely do that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not only do they finish the bottle, they break out a new one, babbling about the Fab Five as they go, and Eddie can finally put the fact that he’d come here over the restraining order out of his mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a while, Eddie finally feels loose enough to joke. “You know, Richie asked me if you were dating Bill.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pfft,” she says. “With how he talks about Mike? No way. Besides, don’t tell the boys, but I’m seeing someone else.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my God, they’re gonna lose it,” Eddie whispers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Bev says. “And you’ve only talked to Richie, who is the chill one.</span>
  <em>
    <span> That</span>
  </em>
  <span> is why I’m not telling them until I’ve got that poor, beefy little angel on </span>
  <em>
    <span>lockdown.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s good, though?” Eddie asks, because it </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> pretty cute how Richie was protective over her, and Eddie would hate to be the reason she slid into a bad relationship without their support. “You’re sure about him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Bev says. “Oh my God. So sweet. With Tom, I knew something about him was just…” She sighs. “You know? But it felt like maybe I deserved him, so I just ignored it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie nods solemnly. “Yeah, I was engaged to a woman for a while,” he admits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bev nearly snorts wine out of her nose. “Oh my god.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shush.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, okay. But this guy is just…” Bev sighs. “He’s so good. Just so good. He tried so hard not to even get my attention, you know? Just wanted to brighten my day without saying a single word about himself, and I </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> that. I want it so bad and if Stanley scares him off with that weird scary look of his, I will have to kill Stanley, and frankly, he does our taxes so I can’t do that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie giggles. “He’s shy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So shy,” Bev says. “It’s great, I think I’m going to give him a heart attack one of these days.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie laughs, resting his head on her shoulder. She shifts to make him more comfortable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s been a while since he’s had casual affection that wasn’t part of Domming. Bill is a kind and passionate friend, but he’s not very touchy. Eddie loves Domming, but it’s different to touch someone free of any expectations, purely out of friendship and shared trauma. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is nice. He wishes it was easier to get this close to people.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unfortunately, after a bit, nature calls. “Where’s your bathroom?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>”Oh, end of the hall,” she says, pointing. “If the boys are using it just kick them out, they’re fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie has to regain his balance upon standing up, but he makes his way to the bathroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The last thing he’s expecting find </span>
  <em>
    <span>in</span>
  </em>
  <span> the bathroom is Richie Tozier in a loose Zelda shirt and boxers, brushing his teeth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing here?” Eddie asks, bewildered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie stares at him for a long moment, then spits out the toothpaste in his mouth. “I live here,” he says. “What are </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> doing here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie takes a moment to mull that over. “I’m having… not a manic episode,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” Richie says, nodding sagely. “Bev invited you over.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Eddie says. “Can I use the toilet or what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie snorts, rinsing his mouth and then stepping out of the bathroom with a flourish and a bow. “Your Highness.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie flips him off and goes to pee.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time he’s back, Richie is sprawled out on the couch while Bev thwacks him with a pillow repeatedly. “No!” she’s hissing. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I </span>
  </em>
  <span>invited him over.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope,” Richie says. “I’m here now. I will never leave.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will you put on some pants?” Eddie asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You come into my home,” Richie says dramatically, sprawling his long legs all over the couch, “and you ask that I wear </span>
  <em>
    <span>pants?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Unacceptable, Eddie Spaghetti. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Unacceptable.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Eddie is way too drunk for this. He sinks down on the couch next to Richie and leans in to whisper, ever so subtly, “Be a good boy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie jerks one leg off the top of the couch, scooting over to leave enough room for Eddie to sit comfortably, but otherwise he’s remarkably good at hiding his reaction to the whisper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, Eddie counts it as a win as he settles back in against Bev.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>bet none of you expected eddie to see richie without pants this early, huh</p><p> </p><p>anyway, join me next week when i... introduce... some new (but familiar) faces... jesus christ it's hard to be ominous over text</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>god it's getting harder and harder to wait to post these chapters but IT'S ABOUT THE DELAYED GRATIFICATION</p><p>content warning for richie's internalized homophobia and mlld subdrop</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Eddie Kaspbrak is sleeping on his couch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie has repeated this thought to himself twenty times but there’s still no rationalizing it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie pokes his head into the living room to take a look (again) at Eddie snoring away on the couch, covered in Bev’s quilt, with his normally well-kempt bangs falling into his thick brows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The second he wakes up, Richie is going to have to be super chill about this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie is not chill about this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had been the one to tuck Eddie after he’d fallen asleep, because Bev had gotten way too smashed, and then he’d laid there in bed, trying not to think about Eddie’s low voice while Richie had, for some dumb fucking reason, decided to spread his legs all over the couch. He hadn’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>meant</span>
  </em>
  <span> it sexually until he’d had to will away a boner for the next twenty minutes. And then for an hour after Eddie had fallen asleep, because it was totally fucked up to jerk off to a guy sleeping on your couch after he filed a restraining order against his mom, even if he </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>been a little suggestive in his wine-drunk haze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie runs his hands through his hair, which is absolutely the worst thing he could do after a morning consisting of laying in bed, guiltily wondering how it’d feel to have Eddie pulling his hair and praising him while also driving into him like a goddamn jackhammer. He lets out a deep breath and slips into the kitchen, gathering food for breakfast.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patty is the first to wander into the kitchen, sniffing curiously at the pan of chicken sausages he’s making. “There’s a strange man on our couch,” she informs Richie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He is very strange,” Richie confirms. “Bev had him over.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” Patty says. “Do I have to talk Stanley down?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah, he’s gay.” Richie braces himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sure?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep.” He pops the ‘p’ and watches her closely for any kind of judgement, but she’s only focused on the contents of his pan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, good,” Patty says, and then curses repeatedly as she burns herself tearing off a bit of sausage to nibble on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie slowly breathes out. That was painless. For him anyway. Patty is still blowing on her fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So why,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thinks, </span>
  <em>
    <span>the fuck can’t I say the same about myself?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie choses this moment to start up blearily and looking a little bit crazed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Morning sleepyhead!” Richie calls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, fuck, it’s you,” Eddie mutters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Breakfast?” Richie asks, shaking the pan at him. “It’s kosher!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie groans and rolls off the couch. He still looks a little feral, and that just makes him hotter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patty steals another sausage as she eyes Eddie. “The plates are in the top cabinet,” she tells him, watching him with good-natured amusement as Eddie fumbles with their assorted chipped and themed plates to find one he seems to think is more dignified than the rest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gathers a bit of everything Richie’s made and then sits down at the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stan joins them a moment later, followed closely by Bev in her pink pajama bottoms and black tank-top, looking very hungover.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’s this?” Stan asks, narrowing his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is Eddie,” Bev says. “Before you ask, no, I’m not dating him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t ask,” Stan gripes, still giving Eddie a serious side-eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be like that, babylove,” Patty says, over her plate of sausages with one tomato.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie rolls his eyes. “Bev was kind enough to invite me over because I had just filed a restraining order against my mother and was having a rough time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see,” Stan says. “And I suppose Bill Denbrough talked you into it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He did,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie grins at Eddie, drawing a gentle glare from him. Stan isn’t actually a terribly threatening person, but once he digs his heels in, he can’t stop. It’s undeniably hilarious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s certainly good at that,” Stan says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bev gives Eddie an apologetic look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, he dated an actress for a while,” Eddie says. “He helped her get a few of them against fans and so he’s been helping anyone else who needs them through the process.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie watches Stan closely. Richie’s pretty sure Stan would sooner die than admit defeat, but he’s also pretty sure at this point the solemn war against Bill Denbrough that Bill Denbrough wasn’t even aware of has finally come to an end.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So he </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> into women,” Stan tries.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stanley, darling, eat a sausage,” Patty interjects, her fork dancing temptingly in front of his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stan,” Bev groans. “I am not into Bill.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s absolutely dating Mike,” Eddie confirms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stan sulks at them, but he takes the sausage from Patty’s fork as a consolation prize. His face seems to be stuck in a glower, but he tries his best to transition into small talk. “So, you’re the guy teaching Richie about the BDSM… stuff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie’s heart skips a beat. He tries not to give Eddie a panicked look. If Stan finds out about their arrangement, there’s no </span>
  <em>
    <span>way</span>
  </em>
  <span> he won’t have follow up questions, and if Stan starts asking pointed questions about the way Richie’s brain can be switched off with hair pulling, then Richie is going to fold like a house of cards.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just minutes ago Richie had felt silly about not coming out to Patty, and yet here he is, perched on the edge of a cliff with nothing to grip. Eddie, who offered to Dom for him completely totally non-sexually is about to find out just how sexually Richie thinks about it, and Bev, Stan, and Patty are all going to find out he’s gay when he gets yelled at for duping the only guy who’s ever made him feel special for maybe doing an okay job of shutting up for once.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Eddie says, face betraying nothing. “That’s me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I assume he’s a great student,” Stan says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Valedictorian,” Eddie replies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stan rolls his eyes. “He told you that, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie snorts. “Yes, he did. Said you were very happy about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thrilled,” Stan says dryly. “How many dick jokes do you get each lesson?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Too many,” Eddie responds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Haha,” Richie says. He doesn’t think his voice is shaking, but god knows how. “Enjoy the breakfast I made you all while you complain about me. I need to use the bathroom.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He slips into the bathroom and locks the door so he can have a small panic attack in peace. His hands are shaking, his breath won’t steady and he’s on the verge of crying. He splashes water on his face and tries to calm down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s such a fucking coward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, Tozier, pull yourself together,” he mutters to his reflection. “The fuck are you doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His reflection has no answers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He switches off the water and puts on a brave face to return to the kitchen to a surprisingly calm conversation. Patty seems to have volunteered herself for a very long lecture on carburetors, Stan, as usual, has been appeased by anyone who can hold a pleasant conversation with Patty, and Bev is all but purring about the Bill Denbrough war finally coming to an end.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie loads a plate with all his favorite foods and sits next to Bev and tries to enjoy it too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>**</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Eddie says. “Can I talk to you for a second about Friday?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie swallows, stepping out on the balcony with Eddie as he leaves their apartment, shrugging on his coat. “Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know I wouldn’t just tell people about this, right?” Eddie asks softly, pulling him in close enough to hear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Apparently, Richie had not been as subtle as he’d hoped. “Sure, yeah,” he croaks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Subbing is a very vulnerable thing,” Eddie says. “Of course I’m going to be discrete about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I know,” Richie says. “I just thought… It’s just…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie takes his wrist in his hand and Richie’s knees go weak. “I also understand there’s certain connotations to doing this sort of thing with a guy – a gay guy no less–but it’s still alright to want to be discrete.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I was very worried about homophobia, you got me,” Richie jokes, even though it’s technically true. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Coward, coward, coward…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie snorts. “Rich. I understand how difficult it is to surrender yourself to someone. You don’t have to worry about hurting my feelings.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s still holding Richie’s wrist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m, uh,” Richie manages. He clears his throat. “I’m really sorry about your mom.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie smiles softly. “Thanks. That means a lot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has such tender, dark brown eyes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Coward, coward, coward…</span>
  </em>
  <span> Richie thinks to himself. “Still on for Friday, then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Eddie says. “I’m looking forward to it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you?” Richie asks, chest squeezing with want for praise he doesn’t fucking deserve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Eddie says firmly. “I am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Richie manages. “See ya later alligator.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie rolls his eyes as he lets go of Richie’s wrist. It still tingles with the warmth of his hand. “In a while, crocodile,” he replies, then starts down the stairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie nods as he goes back inside, confirming to himself that he is, in fact, the worst person on the entire planet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>**</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cut!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie groans. That take was pretty good, he’d thought, but apparently not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Trashmouth, come on,” Connor sighs. “Where’s your energy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie sighs. He likes Connor, he really does. He’s a good director, funny and talented. But Richie can’t get into this scene, and Connor just keeps pushing him to be enthusiastic about it. “I just don’t like the way we’re approaching this, man,” he admits. “Feels off for the tone we’re going for.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Greta, his co-star, rolls her eyes. There’s something very funny about her being the sub to his Dom. She could probably snap him in half and meanwhile Richie spent his whole lunch break daydreaming about when he’ll be able to get on his knees for Eddie again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, sure,” Connor says, swallowing his frustration at Richie. “What are you thinking?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, I get it, yada-yada, she makes a drunk mistake getting involved with me,” Richie says, paging through the script, “but I just feel like maybe we need to tone that aspect of it down, because at the moment it feels less drunk mistake and more… uh… sex trafficking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie would say that none of this scene should happen with anyone drunk, but if Richie starts pushing that angle, he’ll get fired for sure. They’re not far enough into the movie for re-casting to be much of an issue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor sighs. “Okay. Greta? Less drunk, more… tipsy. Let’s try it from the top.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie swallows down his misgivings and throws himself into the scene again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>**</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After another million grueling takes, when he finally make it to Eddie’s, Eddie opens the door, takes one look at him, and makes a disappointed noise. “Ah,” he says. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“That</span>
  </em>
  <span> jacket.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It sounds like a scolding. Richie frowns at his jacket. Of all the many things he feels like shit about today, his jacket was not one of them. “Yeah, man, I wear this to work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Eddie says. “That explains it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Explains what?” Richie snaps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not very… you,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Richie breathes, shoulders sagging. “Yeah, I don’t know. My manager says I can’t go to work looking like a parrot every day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie tugs him inside. “Take it off,” he says gently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie sighs and shrugs off the jacket. It doesn’t feel as immediately relaxing as usual to be told what to do in that voice, and Richie wants to cry. He just wants to stop </span>
  <em>
    <span>thinking.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Unlike the previous times Richie has taken his jacket off here, Eddie takes it from him and hangs it up for him before guiding him over to the couch. “Bad day?” Eddie asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could say that,” Richie mutters, before shaking his head. He’s being dramatic. “Just… got stuck on a scene, is all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm,” Eddie says, holding his hands out so Richie has to bend forward to put his neck between Eddie’s hands. Eddie rewards him for the motion by kneading at his shoulders. “That’s okay. We’ll work the scene around that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to change your plans for me,” Richie says with a grin that feels disingenuous even as he does it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie snorts. “Who exactly do you think this whole thing is about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie frowns at that. This feels like a test, and Richie really can’t handle any more failure this week. “Me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very good,” Eddie says. “How do you feel about the same rules as last time?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie wants to snap at him. Wants to make some bitter, stupid joke about how </span>
  <em>
    <span>Eddie</span>
  </em>
  <span> is supposed to be calling the shots. What the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> does it matter what Richie thinks of his rules? Richie’s not the Dom, he’s not even a good actor or a good friend or a good anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie runs his thumbs across Richie’s jaw, drawing his attention and crooking his brow in a way that demands an answer. “Sure,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rich,” Eddie murmurs. “I need you to work with me here, sweetheart. Is there anything I can change or add to help your mood?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t wanna be asked things,” Richie admits. “I just wanna… not suck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie sort of expects him to say he doesn’t suck or groan at him like Bev and Stan do when he’s being too mean to himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead Eddie nods, taking Richie in with a soft look. He’s so much softer when he’s doing this. He has a naturally soft nature to his face, even with the constant frown and strong brows, but he uses it so intensely for this, even as he keeps up the firm Dom voice. “One more question and then I’ll take over, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thought of Eddie taking over is so tantalizing that Richie immediately nods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good boy,” Eddie murmurs. “How do you feel about very, very gentle punishments?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie’s stomach twists. Apparently he’s already screwed up enough to get </span>
  <em>
    <span>punishments</span>
  </em>
  <span> after last time’s constant praise. He knows this is probably Eddie’s well-practiced game plan, but Christ…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Eddie says, getting a firm grip on Richie’s jaw. “I won’t tell you you’re bad or anything. You’re not. I just think maybe a little bit of discipline will help you be good faster, and I don’t think you want to fumble today, do you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Richie mutters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rich,” Eddie says. “Working with me, remember?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie takes a deep breath. “Did I fuck something up?” he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not at all,” Eddie assures him. “I’m trying to think what will make you feel good the fastest. Last time, I felt a little trial and error would be a good way to show you the ropes. Today you don’t look up to it. That’s all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie bites his lip. That does make sense.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie rubs at his back. “Can I show you what I’m thinking for punishments?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not going to make me decide them?” Richie asks. He’d struggled so much to find three good rewards, but he can already think of several punishments just from the script he’s been chewing over for days. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I don’t think you have the right idea at all,” Eddie laughs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well sheesh,” Richie says. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.” When Eddie laughs like that, though, it’s hard not to smile. It doesn’t feel like a laugh at his expense, it feels fond.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“May I?” Eddie asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, go for it,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Eddie says, reaching up to get a firm grip on Richie’s hair. It’s not a gentle grip like last time though, it’s Eddie’s knuckles digging into his scalp and his every movement dragging Richie’s head with him so he doesn’t lose half the skin on his scalp. It doesn’t particularly hurt, unlike most of the punishments Richie would have thought of. “So, what I think of when I say punishment is something that makes you feel like you need to listen to me. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Now.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulls Richie’s head to the side so that Richie’s eyeline dips below Eddie’s and he has to prop himself up with an elbow on his knee. “Fair enough,” Richie chokes out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Still feels good though, right?” Eddie asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, yeah,” Richie mutters. He’s a little twisted up, like a human pretzel, but Eddie’s grip on his hair prickles at his scalp in a decidedly good way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Eddie says. “I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I’m trying to help you be good, because we both know how much you like to be good.” He tightens his grip a little more. “Tell me how good you want to be for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Better than I am,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Richie thinks. “Really good,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Eddie says, looking pleased as he releases Richie’s hair. “So you think we can do that today? If you’re fumbling a little, I’ll set you straight as quickly as I can.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, okay,” Richie says. “Sounds good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” Eddie says. “Safewords and then silence, got it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Red is stop, yellow is slow, green is go,” Richie sighs. He doesn’t feel like kidding around about it. He’s told the same dumb fucking dick joke thirty times today. It’s grating even for his usual.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow, you really are in a bad mood, huh?” Eddie teases. He puts a finger on Richie’s lips when he moves to answer. “Sorry, that was rhetorical. Forget about your day, I’ve got you now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie doesn’t know what to do with the confusing jumble of emotions that hits him. Eddie’s finger is rough against his lips and Richie wants to close his mouth around it so bad his mouth is watering. But at the same time, Eddie’s reassurance is about to make him cry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Since you explicitly asked me not to ask you things, I’m going to push you a little hard today. Don’t hesitate to use the yellow safeword if you feel even the least bit hesitant. Got it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Richie says, relieved for the rules. Today feels like the sort of day where he’d make dumb jokes until someone finally ‘beep beep’ed him as angrily as possible, but it’s so much easier to not do that when Eddie is pushing him to his knees in front of the couch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> to piss off literally everyone who matters to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Arms back,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, the elusive B in BD--” Richie starts, before Eddie’s yanking his head back with a steel grip, so Richie’s looking up at him, back bowed and balance shot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t ask,” Eddie says firmly. It’s not a huge departure from last time, but the difference in severity shudders down Richie’s spine like a fucking electric shock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie nods as best he can, startled at how Eddie can make such an impact without raising his voice at all. The fact that Eddie is a cranky, snippy little guy normally amplifies that quiet authority, but fuck if it’s not like Eddie’s presence has suddenly grown.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re going to be quiet until I ask,” Eddie says. “I know you will, because you’re a good boy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>God, does Richie want that to be true. He wants it so bad he doesn’t think he could say anything if he tried, like Eddie’s grip in his hair is around Richie’s throat, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See?” Eddie says, smiling and easing his grip. “Already so, so good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie bites his tongue, glancing up at Eddie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie snorts. “Yes, Richie, what’s the joke you’d like to say?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, like it’s hard?” Richie blurts, in classic Valley girl drawl. “From…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Legally Blonde</span>
  </em>
  <span>, yes,” Eddie says, unable to hide a smile. He turns Richie’s head to look away from him, at the floor. “Now. Arms back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie feels a lot better already. He likes being asked for jokes. He actually likes it quite a bit, even though he knows Eddie must be doing it to let Richie blow off steam before he hurts himself. Unfortunately, feeling better also means that he wants to talk more, because now he thinks he could be fun annoying instead of make-my-loved-ones-hate-me annoying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But before he can blurt something just for the hell of it, Eddie moves his arms for him, crossing his forearms and getting his hands around Richie’s biceps. His touch feels nice, and Richie as much as Richie really wants to chatter at him, he also wants to settle into it. He’s never felt so torn in his life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie catches his eyes as Richie watches him reach for the rope and chuckles. “Joke?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No?” Richie tries.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Something else you don’t like?” Eddie asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just quiet,” Richie admits. “It’s hard not to talk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” Eddie says. “I’ll tell you how </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> day was.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie gives him a wry look. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Using your sub to talk at while forbidding responses, eh?</span>
  </em>
  <span> he tries to say with his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie ruffles his hair, scratching his fingers through it as he pulls away and starts to wrap the rope around Richie’s wrists. “So, today I worked on a 1992 Ferrarri. A little newer than a lot of the stuff I work on, but still a beautiful car, not to mention impressive horsepower.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie is good at this. Even though Richie can’t see it, he tugs the ropes so that Richie can feel each loop on his skin, extremely present, pulling his arms tighter together until they feel completely enclosed. It’s like a cocoon of some kind, leaving Richie completely unable to move his arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie’s still talking cars, but it’s hard to follow. Richie thinks maybe that was the intention, because while he’s zoning out from Eddie’s rambling, he ends up feeling each tug and pull of the rope like a shiver through his body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie gets back onto the couch. “Your arms look good tied up like that,” Eddie remarks. “Are you enjoying being quiet a little more now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Weirdly enough, Richie does enjoy it. “Yeah,” he mutters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie twists his head back. “Again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie can’t remember what he did wrong at first, then quickly corrects it to, “Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very good!” Eddie says, loosening his hold and guiding Richie to rest his head back. “You always catch up so quickly. You’re so </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span> at this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie feels awash with satisfaction. He doesn’t even want to argue anymore. The ropes around his arms are snug and Eddie never seems angry about correcting Richie, even though he’d said he was going to be severe today.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie grabs his phone and takes a picture of Richie’s arms, petting his hair as he leans around Richie to show him the picture. “Doesn’t it look nice?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Richie says. The red is sharp against his skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Show me how much you can move,” Eddie tells him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie wriggles his fingers and twists his wrists to see if he can move them at all. He can’t. He feels a shock of pleasure at that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not at all, huh,” Eddie remarks. “Good.” He puts a hand on Richie’s forehead. “Rest your head back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie does, and Eddie tugs off his glasses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie nearly safewords. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie seems to notice right away, because he’s combing his hands through Richie's hair, holding the back of his head in one hand. “Ssh,” he says. “I’ve got you. Close your eyes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good boy,” Eddie says, massaging his scalp. That feels really, really good. “I know this is another layer of vulnerability for you. I promise to take care of your glasses and you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie’s lip wobbles and he all but whimpers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I know it’s scary,” Eddie says softly. “It’s okay. You’re safe here, you can just rest and be quiet. Does it feel good what I’m doing to your hair?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Richie croaks as Eddie scratches his scalp and tugs at his hair whenever he moves his hands to a new area.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s very useful that your scalp is so sensitive,” Eddie says. “Makes you very easy to work with.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie actually does whimper at that. No one has ever called him easy to work with. Not even people who </span>
  <em>
    <span>like</span>
  </em>
  <span> him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sssh. Yes, you are,” Eddie murmurs. “You’re very good for me. Just stay there and let me reward you for how good you are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His voice is smooth and relaxing, so Richie does.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>**</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wakes up when Eddie unties his arms, feeling loose and calm and a little buzzed. He looks at Eddie, unsure if he’s still in the scene or not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can speak,” Eddie laughs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cool,” Richie croaks, trying to play catch up with his muddled brain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You dozed off,” Eddie says helpfully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that allowed?” Richie asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t forbid it,” Eddie says, corner of his lips quirking up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He slides Richie’s glasses onto his face, and Richie’s a little startled by the fact that he didn’t reach for them himself the moment his hands were free. “Well, I’ll be damned,” Richie says. He manages a grin. “Running up the clock, eh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ha </span>
  <em>
    <span>ha,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Eddie gripes, shoving his shoulder. “No. I won’t charge you for while you were asleep. I’m honestly just glad you felt so relaxed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And we didn’t even have to watch any pseudo-porn dramedies for bored housewives,” Richie jokes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, fuck you,” Eddie replies, rolling his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He transitions so easily from gentle to teasing. Richie isn’t sure which is the act. Uncertainty blooms inside his chest like a kaleidoscope and suddenly there are tears streaming down his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, nope, no,” Eddie says, quickly pulling him into a hug. “Come on, don’t drop now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His voice is light and teasing, but it just makes it worse. Richie’s breathing catches and he draws his knees up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, no teasing, got it,” Eddie says, pulling him closer. “Hey. Can you walk me through why you’re dropping? Hm? Can you do that for me? What’s wrong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s so easy for you to go back to acknowledging how annoying I am,” Richie mumbles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, god, no,” Eddie says, strangling down his laugh. “No, no. Listen, when I praise you and tell you you’re good, I’m not pretending. It’s just a different headspace, okay? When you’re being jokey, I get jokey, and when you’re being vulnerable and submissive, I respond to that. I promise I am being very, very earnest when I tell you how good you are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> good,” Richie chokes out. “I suck and I annoy everyone and I lie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lie about what?” Eddie questions softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Panic flashes through Richie. What if he admits his feelings and Eddie lets go? Even if it’s just to avoid giving the wrong impression, Richie doesn’t want him to stop touching him. Not now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whoa, whoa,” Eddie says, and Richie realizes he’s been struggling to breathe. “No, okay, we don’t have to talk about that. It’s okay. We all have our secrets.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie slumps against him and tries to hide his face while the tears keep coming, shame gripping him hard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, how about this?” Eddie tries. “Doesn’t matter who you are outside of scenes. As your Dom, I only care what you’re like as a sub, which I </span>
  <em>
    <span>promise</span>
  </em>
  <span> is </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> good. How’s that sound? Just forget everything else, and trust me on what I know. Can you do that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you serious?” Richie asks. “It’s that big a deal that I can shut the fuck up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That you can go from a mouthy guy to a quiet sub who falls asleep in my lap in minutes?” Eddie asks. “Yeah, that’s really something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie tries to argue on momentum alone, but he can’t. “That’s… you’re good at it,” he mumbles. “You have, like, magic hands.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have the same hands with all my subs,” Eddie says. “None of them go down as well as you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Promise?” Richie asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Promise,” Eddie assures him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Richie chokes out, and curls up against Eddie to cry it out quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie stays quiet and rubs Richie’s back until he’s stopped crying, and once the sobs fade away, Richie isn’t sure how he collapsed quite so hard. He feels fine. Exhausted, but pretty good, relaxed like he’d been last time after the scene. “Sorry, uh. Jeez. That was really weird,” he mumbles, reluctantly peeling himself away from Eddie. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even as he sits up, Eddie is close, his nose almost touching Richie’s as he raises his head. Richie barely dares to breathe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s a drop,” Eddie says, helping Richie up. “Don’t worry, it’s pretty normal. You were kind of worked up already when you got here, it’s okay if it all hit you after you came back to the real world.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie smiles hesitantly. “This part happen to you often too?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Eddie laughs. He keeps his hands on Richie even as they shift and stand. He has nice hands with broad, calloused palms. “Oh, yeah. I’ve gotten all kinds of snot on me, it’s disgusting. Don’t worry about it. C’mon, you need to eat and drink.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He keeps his arm around Richie as he steers him into the kitchen and hands him a glass of water and a Reese’s cup. Richie feels strangely endeared by peanut butter cups being Eddie’s wind down snack of choice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Finish those off, I’ll warm up some real food for you,” Eddie says. “You want to stay for a movie after?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie can see the pink trails the ropes left on his arms, already fading, and has to take a moment to get his brain back on track. “Oh. Yeah, sure. How about something good this time?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie snorts. “See? You wouldn’t say something like that while you’re subbing, so I can respond to that jab as cranky as I want without feeling </span>
  <em>
    <span>any</span>
  </em>
  <span> kind of dissatisfaction with your performance as a sub.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay okay, I got it,” Richie says, sheepish. “Soooo-rry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like I said, don’t worry about it. Besides, I’ve got some new ideas from how you responded today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ominous, thank you,” Richie replies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Want to talk about what put you in such a bad mood today?” Eddie asks softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie sighs. He feels looser, less like the world’s falling apart around him and more like people are just mildly annoyed at him. That’s par for the course. “Nothing serious, it’s just there’s this scene in my movie where my co-star is hiring me…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As a professional Dom, yes,” Eddie says, the corners of his mouth quirking up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Richie says, “laugh it up, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m </span>
  </em>
  <span>the Dom.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie grins, handing him a plate of reheated pizza. “So? What happened with this very realistic scene?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, fuck you. Anyway, in this scene the lady’s tipsy in the script, which…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Already bad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. So she’s tipsy, and I’m like, cool, I’ll work with this as best I can. But then we get to set and we’re doing the scene and she’s playing it fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>sloshed,</span>
  </em>
  <span> dude. And all my jokes just sound like I’m a fuckin’ serial killer, and the director asks me where my </span>
  <em>
    <span>energy</span>
  </em>
  <span> is. Like jeez, man, I guess I left it with Ted Bundy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie chuckles. “So what’d you do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I asked him to go back to tipsy, at least!” Richie snaps. “And then we had to do a bunch more takes, the director thinks I’m an idiot and my co-star hates me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you were right,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, well, I feel like I’m only ever right at the wrong times,” Richie says, nibbling despondently at his pizza.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie leans over to rub his arm. “I think you’re too hard on yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie snorts. “Have you met me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I have,” Eddie says, so earnest it hurts. His hand is burning a hole into Richie’s arm. He’ll be eighty years old and still thinking, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Eddie Kaspbrak once touched me here and told me he knew me and liked it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie shoves half a slice of pizza into his face rather than deal with </span>
  <em>
    <span>that.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie laughs. “Okay, don’t choke yourself. I’m done for today. You can pick the movie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie laughs too, and feels absurdly lucky to be here with Eddie today.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>next week. next week i FINALLY get to mention the goddamn pineapple.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>sorry we're a little late, it's been a Week</p><p>anyway, enjoy. i'm sorry i named a gay bar penny's, twitter said i could</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When Eddie inevitably dies, his gravestone is going to read: Absolute Fucking Moron.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill had warned him. He’d told him in no uncertain terms that Eddie was falling for a straight guy, and what did Eddie do? Fall even harder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has to do something about this. He hasn’t gotten as far as figuring out </span>
  <em>
    <span>what,</span>
  </em>
  <span> but this is definitely a situation that needs to be dealt with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Someone knocks on his office door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He groans. “My colleague outside will help you!” he yells. He’s busy sprawled facedown over his desk, contemplating his life choices.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They knock again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unbelievable. He slumps out of his chair and drags himself over to the door to wrench it open. “Yes?” he growls asks with a sigh, before he realizes who it is. “Oh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Myra clears her throat. “So apparently I owe you an apology.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie groans. “What are you talking about?” He’s barely talked to Myra in years. (Something that tends to happen when you leave someone at the altar.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your mother told me you filed a restraining order,” Myra says. “So I assume she was… difficult, on the phone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You talk to my mother?” Eddie asks, before he connects the dots. He grips the doorframe in an attempt to not lose his shit right then and there. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You</span>
  </em>
  <span> gave her my number?!” He rubs his hands over his face. “My </span>
  <em>
    <span>work</span>
  </em>
  <span> number?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s the only one I still had!” Myra protests. “You already changed your personal phone number. Twice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, to avoid her!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Myra says. “But this time she genuinely sounded very contrite. I thought she really wanted to reconcile. She told me she was talking to someone about her issues and…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Myra, she called me several kinds of slurs,” Eddie says. “Like, from the 50s!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Myra winces. “I’m sorry, Ed, I really am. I didn’t think…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have </span>
  <em>
    <span>told</span>
  </em>
  <span> you this, Myra!” Eddie says gesturing at her emphatically. “I have told you this a </span>
  <em>
    <span>million</span>
  </em>
  <span> times.” (While explaining why he’d left her at the altar, but still.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She was </span>
  <em>
    <span>crying,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Myra says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, come on, they’re crocodile tears, you of all people should know that!” Eddie snaps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s that supposed to mean?” Myra asks sharply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie rubs his hands over his face. It’s easy to compare Myra to his mother, but at the end of the day, she isn’t. “Nothing, I’m… Jesus, I’m fucking sorry, but you </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>let my mother yank your chain like that! In fact, you shouldn’t be talking to her in the first place!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have a lot of common acquaintances, it’s hard to avoid her! And, well, I just wanted you to have the chance to forgive her,” Myra says. “Forgiving you helped me move on, so…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is a fundamentally different situation!” Eddie says. “Jesus, Myra!” He rubs a hand over his face before he gets into it with her. If it had been anyone else, he would have strangled them on the spot, but this is Myra, and honestly, he still owes her a fair bit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(He </span>
  <em>
    <span>has </span>
  </em>
  <span>paid off the wedding debt, financially speaking. Emotionally speaking…)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, fine,” Myra says. “I just… I see you’re serious about this, so I thought you should know she was asking for your address too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie groans. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“After</span>
  </em>
  <span> she found out about the restraining order?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think she believes she can talk some sense into you if she just sees you,” Myra says. “Obviously I told her nothing, but wanted to warn you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, obviously,” Eddie mutters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I already said I was sorry,” Myra replies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Eddie says, pinching the bridge of his nose. However he feels, he doesn’t want to argue with Myra at work. He’s fine shoving his frustration aside if it means this conversation ends faster. “Yeah, okay. Thanks for the heads up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Myra sighs. “You look good, by the way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Eddie says again. “You too.” It’s true. She’s significantly happier these days than she ever was with Eddie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’s Bill?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t care about Bill,” Eddie says, exhausted. He would rather chew off his own fingers than small talk with Myra.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I don’t,” Myra admits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie crosses his arms. He doesn’t want to kick her out, but there’s only so long they can be in the same room together before getting into it and someone getting hurt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>(It’s easy to miss Myra. She’s familiar, in that she’s a lot like his mother if his mother wasn’t outright evil.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I should go,” Myra determines.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, you should,” Eddie says. “Say hi to Steve and the kids.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will,” she says, giving him an awkward little wave as she leaves.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And it’s only Tuesday, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Eddie thinks. He has a scene tomorrow, but not the one he’s looking forward to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He bites his lip, looking at the phone on his desk. It’s too easy to compare and contrast the last person he’d seriously been with and the only person he’s seriously </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be with since.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He groans. He really shouldn’t. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the other hand, on the scale of dumb shit he could be doing to deal with this…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>**</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, hang on, when you say left her at the altar…” Richie says, swinging his legs where he sits on the hood of a half-million-dollar car without a care in the world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> mean it. It was my turn to say ‘I do,’ and I just stood there,” Eddie says, trying to focus on his work at least a </span>
  <em>
    <span>little.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Myra and my mom were trying to subtly guide me through it. I think Myra thought I was just getting stage fright and my mom was ready to kill us both if I didn’t take my chance to marry a woman.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And then you just…” Richie prompts, gleefully beaming at Eddie, urging him to continue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bill was my best man,” Eddie says. “And he couldn’t take it. We’re at my wedding and he looks me right in the eyes and tells me I don’t want to do this, that I don’t have to live my life being someone I’m not. So I booked it. Literally. He had to run after me so we could pack up and leave town together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you really went full Graduate,” Richie says. “Owen Wilson-ed it all the way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Eddie says. “Except in this case the, uh, giver of the impassioned speech wasn’t actually in love with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aww, did you think he was?” Richie asks, grinning wide as he puts his chin on his fist to lean in while Eddie works on the headlamp beside his ankle. Richie’s legs are so long he has to shove one leg all the way out to keep his balance while the other tries to find purchase on the bumper, giving Eddie a wide-open view of his crotch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He was my best friend and stopped me from marrying a woman in front of all our family and friends,” Eddie says, trying very hard not to look. “It was in the </span>
  <em>
    <span>papers.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Of course I thought he was in love with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, man,” Richie giggles. “When did you realize he wasn’t?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, I kissed him,” Eddie says. “And he sort of just… stood there. I don’t think he wanted to say anything, because I don’t think he wanted to risk me backsliding into the closet, but it was pretty obvious.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie lets out a strangled giggle. “The altar-closet. Oh man. Oh, fuck, I’m sorry, that’s so fucking funny.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh-huh,” Eddie says. “Thought you’d get a kick out of that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that why you called me?” Richie asks, eyes twinkling. “You got a thing for me laughing at you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie looks up at him. He has a thing for </span>
  <em>
    <span>Richie,</span>
  </em>
  <span> which is a real problem, but hey. Eddie can still enjoy his company, right? “I just didn’t want things to be quiet while I’m alone with my thoughts here,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” Richie says, tapping his nose. “See? The Trashmouth comes in handy after all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhmm,” Eddie says. “Congrats.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie grins, leaning his elbows back on the car. His knees are at least two feet apart, Eddie notes. He wipes his face and pops the headlight back into its frame.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ya got a little something there,” Richie says, tapping his own nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie rolls his eyes. “Yeah, it happens. I just wait until I get home to shower, usually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A lot of pride in that dirt, huh?” Richie asks. He’s too good at reading Eddie. It gives Eddie butterflies. It also makes Eddie want to pin him to the hood and get that hard-earned dirt in places where only he’ll see it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Eddie says, clearing his throat and his mind. “Actually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie grins at him. “Hey. If you don’t want to be alone, you wanna go to the arcade by Main? I’ll whoop your ass at Street Fighter a few times and you’ll forget all about your extenuating circumstances.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie raises a brow at him. “You’re very confident.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, I’m fucking amazing at Street Fighter,” Richie says, “and I know it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, fine,” Eddie says. “Now could you get your cheap ass off my car? You’ll scratch the paint.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My </span>
  <em>
    <span>cheap</span>
  </em>
  <span> ass?” Richie asks, sliding off. “How dare you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guarantee if I sold your organs on the black market, it would not add up to enough money to buy this car,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guess the ass market has hit rock bottom, huh,” Richie says seriously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie chuckles despite himself. “Wow, quite the joke,” he says, sarcastic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, what, you’re not entertained? You want pizzazz?” Richie says, and then gets into a half split before stopping and sighing. “I forgot I was wearing jeans. I can absolutely do the splits though. Next time you show up at my house while I’m not wearing pants…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Eddie puts an entire second’s thought into Richie doing the splits in his underwear, he’s going to lose it, so he busies himself with wiping his hands on his jeans. “Do the splits all you want, it’s still a bad pun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but you laughed, didn’tcha?” Richie asks, making finger guns at Eddie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie sighs. “Go sit on a less expensive car until I’m done.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>**</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie is very good at Street Fighter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s also as ungraceful a winner as Eddie is a sore loser, which ends with Eddie furiously calling Richie names as Richie giggles and beats him yet again, stooped over the machine like he’s practiced how to slot his broad shoulders and long legs into the space beside Eddie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie throws his hands up. “You’re cheating,” he determines.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, am I?” Richie laughs. “And you said I was overconfident.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie jabs a finger into his face. “Mark my words, Tozier, I’ll get you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“IIIII’ll get you, my prettyyyy,” Richie says, wriggling his fingers in a witch impression.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie groans. “You’re such a dick.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s my name,” Richie says proudly.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Ugh,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Eddie replies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie laughs, leaning against the game to look at Eddie. “You feel better?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” Eddie growls. “You’ve been kicking my ass for like an hour, how’s that supposed to make me feel better?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You liar,” Richie says. “You’ve got multiple settings of cranky, you know that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do I?” Eddie challenges.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yeah, you’re a very pleased cranky right now, aren’tcha?” Richie says. He has a particularly grating way of enunciating the </span>
  <em>
    <span>tcha</span>
  </em>
  <span> when he’s smug. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie elbows him, jostling him against the machine. Richie wheezes with laughter, leaning his whole weight against Eddie. Eddie works out often, but Richie’s half a head taller than him and Eddie has to change his stance to accommodate his weight before they both fall. “Get off,” he growls, reaching around Richie’s waist to twist him down on the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie wheezes with joy, but at this point, the college student manning the prize counter apathetically asks them to leave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>**</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie ends up driving Richie back home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ooh,” Richie says, feeling up the seats. “This </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>a nice car.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Might even be nicer than my director’s car,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s he drive?” Eddie asks, feeling irrationally jealous about his (straight) crush noticing another man’s car.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know, something shiny. Mercedes, maybe,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie wrinkles his nose. “Mercedes drivers are assholes.” If Bill could see him now, he’d get mercilessly teased for the rest of his goddamn life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie shrugs. “I don’t know, Connor seems okay.” Eddie wants to argue on principle, but instead he watches dumbly as Richie sticks his hands under his ass to feel there too. “Oh, I totally get your car boner now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do not have a car boner,” Eddie snaps, even though he’s got to admit, hearing Richie talking about boners while petting his seats and making appreciative noises has him subtly eyeing Richie’s height to see if he could fit in the backseat lengthwise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Probably not, unless he was bent double, which…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which Eddie is totally not thinking about. Not even a little. “I need to get laid,” he mutters to himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ohohoho </span>
  <em>
    <span>ho,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Richie says. “Jeez, all I gotta do is mention the car kink and you’re ready to go, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, that’s not…” Eddie tries to protest, before he realizes that reality is worse. “I just… don’t really date and… so sometimes when I get busy I don’t… bother to look for hookups.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Plus I imagine you get pretty anal about STDs,” Richie says, like he’s urging Eddie to make a misstep into the joke he’s got planned. Eddie refuses to humor him. “Do gay guys also try to weasel out of wearing condoms?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> bottom?” Eddie asks, hoping that’ll make Richie stutter at least a little.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm,” Richie says, trailing a hand from his eyeline to Eddie’s. “Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie punches him in the side just hard enough to make him wheeze and cackle. “Very fucking funny. How'd you even know I top?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I didn’t, I just knew you’d cue me up for something funny,” Richie says. “I’m a </span>
  <em>
    <span>smart</span>
  </em>
  <span> dumb comedian, remember?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie sighs. “You’re a jackass.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie giggles a moment longer before composing himself. “Hey, uh, I did cheer you up, though, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie gives him a bemused look. “Yeah. Obviously.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cool,” Richie says. “Because… uh… Last Friday…” He heaves a huge sigh. “I know it’s part of your job as a Dom, but… um…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t often let people see your insecurities, do you?” Eddie asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not really,” Richie murmurs, ducking his head. “And… it was nice to just… be held. So I’m glad I could, uh… return the favor?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can do that more,” Eddie says, because he hates himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Platonic cuddling, eh?” Richie asks, winking at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie pulls up at Richie’s doorstep. “Don’t be weird.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I think that train’s left the station, my friend,” Richie says. “Um. But seriously, thanks. It felt pretty good to… you know, cry it out. I’m glad I could return the favor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie watches him, if only to see him fidget. “This sincerity is killing you, huh?” he says finally.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am getting </span>
  <em>
    <span>hives, </span>
  </em>
  <span>dude,” Richie breathes in a rush.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie laughs and unlocks the car door for him. “Okay, well. I’ll see you Friday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie salutes him and rolls out of the car, pointing encouragingly at him from the curb. “Have fun getting laid!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And now we’re both uncomfortable,” Eddie calls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie beams and gives him two thumbs up, then spins his way inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie hits his head against the steering wheel, taking a deep breath, then calls Bill. “Hey, do you want to go to Penny’s?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>**</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Penny’s is a decent gay bar. It’s not exactly Eddie’s favorite spot in the world, but for a random hook up, it’s fine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill brings Mike, which is a mixed bag. On one hand, Mike is very nice. On the other hand, you’re not </span>
  <em>
    <span>supposed</span>
  </em>
  <span> to bring your boyfriend along when wingmanning your single friend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike has his arm around Bill, which Eddie patently ignores as he scans the room. “Okay,” he says, seeing a guy he likes. Tall, black hair… no glasses, but… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie shakes his head. It doesn’t matter. He does not need Bill’s scrutiny anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He flags down the bartender and has him send the guy a drink, waving at him when the guy takes note of him. The guy smiles, cocking his head to invite Eddie over. Bill pats him on the back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” he says, extending his hand. “Eddie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nick,” the guy replies, taking his hand. “You come here often.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ha,” Eddie says, before he realizes that’s a dead serious question. “Oh. Uh. No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a fun place!” he replies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie nods. “Yeah, uh, quick question, have you heard of a sense of humor?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clearly berating the guy for not starting off on his funniest (or at least most ridiculous foot) isn’t working, because Nick (tall, bland Nick) takes this opportunity to awkwardly drink the free drink and shuffle off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie slinks back to Bill, sighing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He didn’t bite?” Bill asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He was boring as fuck,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You exchanged t-two sentences with the guy,” Bill protests.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And they were boring!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill groans. “Eddie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, don’t start with me,” Eddie warns.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eddie, what did I sp-specifically tell you not to do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> crushing on a straight dude,” Eddie says vehemently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike grins, swallowing down a laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> are you laughing at?” Eddie snaps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eddie, I told you not to!” Bill says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Eddie says. “And to prove it, I’m gonna go pick that guy up.” He points at the nearest guy who catches his eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nice glasses,” Mike says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie smacks the bar as he backs towards the new guy, who does in fact have large, thick rimmed glasses. “Get off my </span>
  <em>
    <span>dick, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Michael!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have fun,” Bill says, raising his glass with a sigh, leaning back into his smug-ass boyfriend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie flips him off, then goes to talk to Glasses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Glasses is clearly angling for a hookup, so it’s not hard to get him to leave with Eddie. Eddie drives them to his place, and tries very hard not to point out the seats as he does.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As it turns out, though, Glasses is pretty boring too. His place is a small, neat apartment which has wine glasses stacked on a neat rack in the kitchen and marble counters without a single ring on it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But at the end of the day, sex is sex. It’s not like Eddie doesn’t enjoy it. He very much enjoys it, enough so that for a bit he actually stops thinking about how loud this guy is and how he thinks, despite all odds, that Richie is probably pretty quiet in bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want to stay a little longer?” Glasses asks him while Eddie is getting his pants back on. “I make a pretty good shrimp cocktail.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, no, I’m allergic to shellfish,” Eddie says, smiling awkwardly. “Plus I have work in the morning, so I should get home, shower, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I had a good time,” Glasses says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie cannot for the life of him remember the guy’s name. “Me too,” he says, and then calls an Uber.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To be fair, this was enough of a distraction that he doesn’t feel as brutally impatient about Friday anymore. He sleeps like a baby after he gets home and work, as always, is soothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But on Thursday evening he’s practically vibrating with the eagerness to enact his plans.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>How do you feel about fruit?</em>
  </b>
  <span> he texts Richie.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>is this about our scene???</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Yes.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>i like ‘em, </em>
  </b>
  <span>Richie texts. </span>
  <b>
    <em>just no pineapple.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie nods and makes note of that as he picks up a large box of assorted berries.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>am i allowed to know what they’re for?</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>No.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie sends him a Lord of the Rings meme in response, and Eddie has to put his phone away before he starts grinning like an idiot in a grocery store.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>**</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How was the sex?” Richie greets him on Friday.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, good, now I don’t feel at all bad about how I’m gonna end you today,” Eddie says, rolling up his sleeves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie hangs up his dull, brown jacket, but beneath it he’s wearing a blue Hawaiian shirt, flowery and full of personality. “Oh, you talk big for a guy who’s only been nice to me since we started this,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, maybe now I want to mess with you a little,” Eddie says. Richie subtly casts a nervous look at him as he sits down on the couch. Eddie smiles, standing over him to knead his shoulders comfortingly. “I’m only horsing around,” he says. “I think this is something you won’t like until you get into it, and then you will like it. But as always, this is first and foremost about you and at </span>
  <em>
    <span>any</span>
  </em>
  <span> time you can safeword. I will </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> be disappointed in you for safewording.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Richie says, looking up at Eddie. He reaches up to adjust his glasses, then thinks better of it midway. “Um, yeah. Bring it, man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If it wouldn’t be deeply, wildly inappropriate, Eddie would lean down and kiss him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Eddie wouldn’t be much of a Dom if he didn’t have any self control. He takes a step back and has Richie recite his safewords, then reaches his hand out. “May I have your glasses?” he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie hesitates.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can say no,” Eddie reminds him softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie grimaces, but he slides off his glasses and hands them over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m putting them on top of the TV, okay?” Eddie says, using large movements to show Richie where he means.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before walking back to the couch, Eddie smirks and holds up three fingers. “How many fingers am I holding up?” he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, fuck you,” Richie says, looking slightly jittery. “Everyone does that. I literally don’t know, man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow,” Eddie says, striding back to get his hand on Richie’s head again, anchoring him. “You’re really blind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Worse’n a bat,” Richie says, in a stilted imitation of a cowboy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, okay,” Eddie says softly, sitting beside Richie, tapping his knuckles against his arm before smoothing his palm over it, gently sliding his fingers down Richie’s wrist. “I won’t tease. I’m here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie gives him a grumpy look, nose wrinkling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I’m going a little too fast for you,” Eddie admits. “Let me explain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He runs his thumbs across Richie’s knuckles to keep him focused on Eddie. “Sure thing,” Richie says, still in the cowboy voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Last time you were here, you said some unkind things about yourself,” Eddie says. “I want to try a scene where you say some nice things about yourself, and I reward you a little more actively, how’s that sound? Think you can do that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, talk big about myself?” Richie laughs. “Uh, yeah, I think I can--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not big,” Eddie says. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Nice.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie falters. “How, uh, how nice we talkin’?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As nice as I want,” Eddie says firmly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But, just to be clear,” Eddie says. “I think you can use your yellow safeword more often than you have been. If you feel unsure, you can always use it. We’ll discuss, reorient… then keep going.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you give me a color?” Eddie asks, following Richie’s eyes with his own. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie looks back and mumbles, “Green?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure?” Eddie presses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I…” Richie says. “I want to try and… then we’ll see?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” Eddie says. “Very slowly.” He straightens up, keeping one hand on Richie’s arm as he reaches for the rope. “Arms out, wrists together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie does it easily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How this guy got through life without ever looking up a Dominatrix is beyond Eddie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie slips the rope smoothly around Richie’s wrists. He responds well to sharp jerks of the rope against his skin, but Eddie doesn’t pull them too taut. Richie’s not the sort who likes pain - as far as Eddie can tell - he just likes the immobilization, the cool texture against his skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you more comfortable kneeling or sitting with me?” Eddie asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, um,” Richie says, blinking awkwardly. Even without his glasses, he’s been watching Eddie’s hands move. He seems to be drawn to the movement as well as the touch. “I’d like to kneel?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, good,” Eddie says, putting a hand on Richie’s shoulder to guide him off the couch and onto his knees on the floor, between Eddie’s knees and looking up at him expectantly. “You’re always so good when I tie you up.”Richie vibrates with eagerness at his tone, and Eddie pulls the bowl of berries he’d set out on the corner table closer. “As a reward, I’m going to feed you,” Eddie says. “Is that okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie’s eyes immediately widen, flickering over Eddie’s face like he’s desperately trying to read his expression without being able to see. “Sure?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know it sounds a little sexual,” Eddie says. It feels sexual, too, as Eddie stares at Richie’s lips. “But--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah,” Richie says, clearing his throat. “It’s like communion, yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” Eddie says. “You’re Catholic.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie breaks out of the haze that rope seems to put him in to laugh. “Explains a lot about me, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quite a lot,” Eddie laughs, pushing Richie’s hair out of his eyes. Despite his sharp jawline, he has a much softer face without his glasses. “Yes, you can think of it as communion. I can also touch your lips a little, too, if the touch makes it feel better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh,” Richie says. “Better?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t see, so it’s likely touch is going to ground you,” Eddie says. “That’s perfectly normal and if it helps, I don’t mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie licks his lips seemingly without realizing. Eddie’s soul nearly leaves his body. “Yeah, okay,” Richie says. “Yeah, um, that sounds good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie smiles, gently kneading his way across Richie’s scalp with little tugs on his messy hair. “I’ll show you how I usually do it and you can tell me ‘more’ or ‘less,’ okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie nods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Color?” Eddie asks. He wants to get Richie in the habit of using his safewords, especially since taking his glasses so early on seems to have left him off-kilter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Green,” Richie says, though he still looks nervous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Eddie says. He picks up a strawberry and presses it to Richie’s lips. “Now, I know this is a bit of a trial run, but you also </span>
  <em>
    <span>earned</span>
  </em>
  <span> this, got it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie nods again, eyes fixed on Eddie even though he can’t see. Eddie pushes the strawberry into his mouth, thumb pressing on Richie’s bottom lip until Richie pulls back ever so slightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How is that?” Eddie asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Richie mumbles around the strawberry, tongue darting out to lip up any extra juice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie’s heart is in his ears. “Great,” he says, leaning into Richie’s space and putting a hand on the back of his head. “Now, look at me, and tell me, earnestly, that you’re not the worst.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like, for a reward?” Richie asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie stares at him. Eddie narrowly avoids laughing. He doesn’t think it’s meant to be funny.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh,” Richie says, very awkwardly. “Yellow?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Eddie says, making sure to sound as even as possible. He doesn’t want Richie to read any kind of disappointment into the situation. “Thank you for telling me. Can you walk me through why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I…” Richie says, then cuts off, sheepish. “I mean, I don’t… uh…” He lets out a breathy little laugh, “believe you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He says it like it’s funny to think that he would.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Eddie says. “Would you like strict Dom or gentle Dom right now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See, you asking that just makes it </span>
  <em>
    <span>worse,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Richie snaps. “You’re… I mean, you’re just picking and choosing what you say to me, I know it’s not…” He looks away, frustrated, like he feels bad for countering Eddie’s authority but knows he has to say it, “real.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m picking my demeanor,” Eddie says calmly. He wonders if maybe he should give Richie back his glasses for this, because it seems to make him very jumpy not to be able to see. He’s intentionally laying it on thick, trying to overwhelm Richie, and give him some catharsis in this exercise. “But I haven’t snatched any of the things I tell you out of my ass.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That makes Richie smile a little, and Eddie can see him actively decide not to derail things with an ass joke. “You sure?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were the first person I called after Myra left,” Eddie says, tugging Richie’s hair absently as he says it. “And you cheered me up. So I promise, you’re not the worst.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie pouts up at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie knows a bratty look when he sees one. “Say it back to me,” he says, with a small surge of relief. This is familiar territory now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, geez, maybe I’m not the worst,” Richie says, all bluster and joking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie twists his fist into Richie’s hair until he yelps a soft </span>
  <em>
    <span>owowow.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “No,” he says. Voice even, but firm. “Genuinely.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie looks up at him through his lashes, innocent as a puppy who’s just gotten into the toilet paper. “I’m not the worst,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Eddie says, loosening his grip to massage his scalp instead. “See, you were so good! Was that so hard?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He feeds Richie a raspberry, dragging the tips of his fingers along Richie’s bottom lip as he pulls his hand away. Richie’s eyes flicker up to his face. Even when his gaze is slightly off, probably navigating only by color, he uses his eyes to communicate on instinct. Every part of him is expressive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me you’re a good friend,” Eddie murmurs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie’s lip wobbles. “I don’t want to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie takes a slow breath. “You know your safeword, sweetheart,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It seems to be the right thing to say, because Richie just stares him down, brows furrowing a little, and doesn’t safeword.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No?” Eddie asks. “Do you want me to help?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie just bites his lip. Eddie isn’t entirely sure where this is coming from - maybe making it a bit of a battle of wills, it makes Richie feel less raw talking about himself - but he can shift his approach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” Eddie says. It’s a bit of a new hurdle to be strict when he knows that mostly Richie just wants to be told he’s good and doing well. (He really wants to see how Richie responds to a combination of gentle spanking and praise, but he doesn’t want to push it today. Even if the idea of having Richie’s ass over his lap is very difficult to ignore.) “You’ve been very good for me, and I know you want to keep it up. I know you can, even if you need my help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He twists Richie’s hair again, pulling his head back so he’s staring at the ceiling, throat exposed. His Adam’s apple bobs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me,” Eddie orders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie stares at him down the length of his nose, daring Eddie to push him a little further.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Richie,” Eddie says sharply, pulling out his firmest Dom voice. “You know what I want to hear and I know you want to tell me it. So do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m a good friend,” Richie mumbles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie lets him lower his head, working his fingers through the tangles of Richie’s soft curls. “Good boy.” He gives Richie another strawberry, and Richie chases his hand a little on instinct.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wants touch so badly. (Eddie wonders when Richie was last with a woman. When they’d first met, Eddie would have sworn he was the kind to have regular one night stands. Now, he can’t imagine Richie with a woman at all.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie kneads both hands through Richie’s hair and curls his fingers, playing with the locks. “You have nice hair. So dark and soft.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie sniffles, blinking away tears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Color?” Eddie asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Green,” Richie mumbles, voice soft and sticky, like his throat is gumming up with emotion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Eddie says. “Very good. Now say it back to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie blinks away tears and gives him a confused look. “I have nice hair?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s it,” Eddie praises. “Say it, don’t ask it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have nice hair,” Richie says, wrinkling his nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And a very nice smile,” Eddie says, hoping it might coax said smile out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead Richie pulls into himself again, tongue laving over his front teeth warily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Richie,” Eddie says sharply, gripping Richie’s jaw. “I know you can be good for me. Tell me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have a nice smile,” Richie says, voice buckling a little.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I like your buck teeth,” Eddie murmurs, hazarding a guess that that’s probably the source of Richie’s hesitance. They add character to his face, but Eddie can see how that character might have been fuel for bullies, same as his glasses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie swallows hard. “Yellow,” he breathes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Too far?” Eddie asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie nods, confirming Eddie’s suspicions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s okay,” Eddie says. “You did really good, you can take a bit of a break.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Richie says, a tear rolling down his eye. He reaches up to get it before realizing his arms are still bound.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie gets it for him. “Sh, it’s okay sweetheart, it’s okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, it’s st--” Richie starts, before Eddie cuts him off with a sharp tug to his hair. He goes silent, eyes wide.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There we go. Good,” Eddie says, rewarding the silence by running his hands over Richie’s scalp, gently pressing his thumbs under his eyes to make sure there’s no more tears. “Now I know you like being on your knees, but I think it’d be best if you could relax some more, so turn around and sit so your head is back in my lap.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie nods and gets his legs out and his head back. Eddie pets his head and feeds him two berries as a reward. Richie closes his eyes and tries to relax. Eddie gives him a moment, playing with his hair as he does.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has to remind himself to tug a little more, because as it is it feels way too intimate. Like relaxing on a couch with his boyfriend, which Richie absolutely is not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, since you were very good for me, I’ll try to do something easy,” Eddie says. “Tell me you’re funny.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can be,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie slots his hand under Richie’s chin and grips tightly, tilting Richie’s face to look at him at a slightly uncomfortable angle. “Richie,” he warns. “Come on, sweetheart, don’t you want to be sweet for me like usual? I know this is harder than what I usually ask, but I think you can manage.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie swallows hard. “I’m funny.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Eddie says, and feeds him a berry. “You’re smart.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m smart,” Richie says, and gets another berry and a nice little tug on the hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re fun to be around,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie shifts uncomfortably. “I’m fun to be around.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your friends clearly like you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My friends…” Richie says, and stops, fighting with himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t joke it off,” Eddie says. “You’re on a roll, come on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie opens his eyes to blink away tears. “Um, my friends clearly like me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good job!” Eddie says, leaning into Richie’s space to try to make him feel safer. Surrounded. “Excellent!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I…” Richie starts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sh,” Eddie tells him before he can get it out. “Say only what I tell you to say. Can you do that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Richie says, relaxing at something familiar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good boy,” Eddie says, and gives him a blackberry. “Tell me you’re good at your job.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m good at my job,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If people are annoyed at you for being insightful, that’s their problem,” Eddie says. “And don’t make it a joke.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie lets out a strangled chuckle, clearly uncomfortable, but he chokes out, “If people are annoyed with me for being…” He twitches with the urge to grin, but doesn’t, “insightful, then that’s their problem.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There we go,” Eddie says. “That was hard for you, wasn’t it?” He amps up the way he’s pulling Richie’s hair. Richie’s leg twitches, and he whimpers a little.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you did beautifully,” Eddie says. “Tell me you’re a very good sub.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m a good sub,” Richie says, tears welling up in his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Eddie says. “So good. One of my best.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>The best,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Eddie thinks. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Perfect.</span>
  </em>
  <span> But Richie’s never going to believe that, and Eddie thinks he’s finally giving in to this tactic. “Repeat it back to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m one of your best subs,” Richie sobs. “Yellow?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie sits up straight to look at Richie’s face closely. “What’s the matter?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Promise?” Richie asks, sniffling loudly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie laughs. “Yes,” he says gently. “Yes, I absolutely mean it, I promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie lets out a strangled, relieved laugh, then firmly closes his mouth as if to tell Eddie he’s ready to go back to the rules.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think that’s enough for today,” Eddie says instead. “You were so, so good. I know it’s hard for you to say this stuff seriously, so let’s just sit here and decompress for a bit. Sound good?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Richie says, leaning back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie massages his scalp and untangles his hair. It tangles quickly, giving Eddie a good excuse to tug and comb at it. Richie uncoils, sniffling softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie lays back and lets his hands go through the emotions. This was a sort of stilted scene, but because it’s Richie, he feels calm anyway. He likes the unique way Richie changes the moment he’s pushed to be vulnerable and the way it forces Eddie to adapt and figure him out. He likes the way Richie is both easy and difficult to deal with, alternating like an obstacle course Eddie would have never been allowed near as a kid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie is still sniffling, so Eddie allows himself to simply pet his hair tenderly, letting Richie come down until he’s laying in Eddie’s lap silently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ready to come back to the real world?” Eddie asks, after nearly a half an hour of just this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Richie mumbles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Eddie says. “Are you alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sits there with Richie for a while longer, then asks again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Richie says. “Can I have my glasses back before you untie me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” Eddie says, and finds Richie’s glasses so he can slide them onto Richie’s face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie blinks at him. “Oh wow,” he says. “I think it really messed with my brain that you took my glasses away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In a good way?” Eddie asks, slowly undoing the knots around Richie’s wrists.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I think so,” Richie says. He searches Eddie’s face like he’s been aching to do it this whole time. “Why’d you make me say those things?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I believe them,” Eddie says. “And I was curious how it’d go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did I… Was it good?” Richie asks softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Always,” Eddie assures him. It’s true. “But I didn’t feel like I really hit a sweet spot for you. I’d like to try it differently sometime, is that okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Differently how?” Richie asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said spanking was a maybe for you,” Eddie says. “I’d like to very gently try it with spanking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie wrinkles his nose. “Well… um…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie smiles. It’s charming, how Richie seems to think of everything he can classify as punishment as rough and alarming. “You think you can handle one spank right so you know what to imagine if you end up thinking about it over the weekend?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie shrugs. “Sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie sits and pats his lap. “Lay down over my thighs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie lowers himself onto the floor and awkwardly bends over Eddie’s lap. “Like this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie shifts him a little so that Richie’s waist is positioned right over his thigh, pushing his ass up a little, and gives him a small swat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie bursts out laughing. “Dude, that’s it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s it,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s literally </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Richie says. “Fuck, man, I really thought you were gonna slap my ass.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie snorts. “For some people, obviously I go harder, but for you, yes. That’s where I’d cap it. But it adds up. Like hair pulling.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, sure, I think we can try that,” Richie says. “You’re just going to be patting my ass while making me say nice shit about myself for an hour, but if that floats your boat…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie rolls his eyes. “Yes, you’re obviously completely unaffected by the sort of thing,” he teases. Richie gives him a sheepish little grin. “But next time we’ll do something easier. I want to get a better feel for what gets you into the right headspace before pushing you harder.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmkay,” Richie says, shimmying out of his lap. “Uh… you… you for real think I’m good to be around? Like, in general?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Eddie says. “I really do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um,” Richie says, looking poised to say something important. Eddie turns to look at him intently, trying to be open while also staying patient. “I should tell you…” Eddie nods gently, but Richie pulls back, laughing slightly. “I don’t know. Nevermind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie thinks he knows well enough, but he doesn’t say so. “Do you want some ice cream?” he asks instead. Richie will tell him whenever he’s ready.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie smiles wryly. “Did I earn it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie rolls his eyes. Richie’s onto him, but that’s okay. “I told you. Always.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie beams, and Eddie is so deeply, fundamentally screwed.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>richie: haha no it's cool catholicism is FULL of homoeroticism i'm used to it<br/>richie internally: *is straight up dead*</p><p>join us next week on: eddie may have a point about mercedes owners</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <strike>hi i know this is a silly thing to add a disclaimer about but last chapter i accidentally implied i'd be writing bottom eddie which, again, is something that's distressing to me for personal reasons, so i wanted to clarify that i will not be doing that bc i'd feel really bad if i implied i was gonna do something only to turn around and be like D: if anyone mentioned it, okay sorry bye</strike>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>warnings for this chapter: safeword usage, homophobia (mostly internalized but not. uh. entirely) and dishonesty during a scene (don't lie to your dom about your wellbeing, folks, it's not good)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Richie pages absently through his script.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Greta gives him a dirty look from where she’s finishing off the coffee.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” he calls over to her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She rolls her eyes. “Look, Tozier, I get what you’re trying to do, but there’s not a single person on earth who can make Playboy Paralegal 2 into any kind of feminist triumph. Hell, you’d need a fucking miracle to break even. I just want to do the scene, collect my paycheck, and go home so I can stop pretending to be attracted to you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well jeez,” Richie says. “Tell me how you really feel.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s nothing personal,” she says. “I know you’re not having any fun kissing me either.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fair enough,” Richie replies. He’d worry she knows too much, but from what he can tell she’s just like that. “But come on, you don’t want to salvage </span>
  <em>
    <span>any</span>
  </em>
  <span> of this script? We could be really funny, you and I.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I feel like you’re trying to do a Star Wars thing,” Greta informs him. “And no. I wanna go home to my cats.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, I copy,” Richie says. He doesn’t hate Greta, but he doesn’t exactly like her either, and he can’t say he minds that it’s mutual. “Yeesh.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s at this point Connor shows up, setting down his bag and a large camera, so Richie leaves Greta to her business.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, do you have a free afternoon sometime?” Connor asks, sidling up to Richie.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Greta sighs and tosses her coffee cup in the trash before striding away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh,” Richie says, looking around like maybe there’s someone else the director is asking for spare time. “Sure, you need help with something?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I went back and looked at the footage from that scene you got stuck on,” Connor says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wow, you need a whole afternoon to fire me?” Richie laughs, fiddling with his glasses. Granted, Connor’s been more responsive to his suggestions than Greta, but Richie can’t help but worry he’s making an idiot of himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(But at least Eddie is proud of him.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, no,” Connor says. “Not at all. It was better after your suggestions. I think I was taking the script the wrong direction and I was hoping maybe I could get your input, actually.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” Richie says. That’s possibly not </span>
  <em>
    <span>the</span>
  </em>
  <span> last thing he was expecting, but it’s up there. “Sure, yeah, sounds great.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How’s Wednesday after filming sound?” Connor asks. “You can come to my place, I know you have roommates.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Great!” Richie says, finding himself getting a little giddy at the thought. “Yeah, good, I’d love to!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Great,” Connor says, grinning and tapping his shoulder. “Get to hair and makeup.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yessir,” Richie says with a salute.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>**</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor’s place is in a nice part of town. It’s the top floor, the only apartment on that floor, which Richie thinks makes it a penthouse suite. No one’s actually told him the definition of a penthouse suite, only that he’s going to need to book a few more roles like this movie to be able to think of affording one.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(Not that he ever wants to live without Bev or Stan. He thinks he’ll probably end up Stan and Patty’s weird resident bachelor for the rest of his life, even after they get married.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck, dude. Your place is way too nice,” Richie says, feeling hopelessly out of place. He’s pretty sure Eddie has a lot of money too, but Eddie doesn’t make all his design choices in the hopes of letting people know. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On the other hand, Connor has a wall of windows, some kind of big, cube-y fountain, and a black color scheme that makes the whole place look like it’s owned by a bond villain.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor laughs. “Yeah, my cousin pitched in. He’s in law enforcement.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And that gives him the money to help you buy this place?” Richie asks. “Hate to tell you, but your cousin’s dirty.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor snorts. “He’s a character alright,” he says. “But I paid him back once I’d gotten the money to, so…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He can’t make you any offers you can’t refuse?” Richie asks, in his best Corleone impression. There’s a Street Fighter poster on the wall, framed in a way that makes Richie think it must be a collector’s item. “Y’know,” he says. “I’m pretty damn good at Street Fighter.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh yeah?” Connor replies with a challenging grin. “Bet I could kick your ass.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Guess sometime I’ll have to prove you wrong, huh?” Richie fires back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor laughs, then bites at his lip as he looks Richie up and down, sizing him up. “You want something to drink?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, sure,” Richie says, shoving his hands in his pockets.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve got a great aged scotch,” Connor says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie doesn’t really care for scotch, but he’s been in the business long enough to know not to insult anyone’s aged liquor. “Sounds great.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor pours them both a glass and hands one to Richie. He gets out the script and a red pen, too. “We can also order pizza too, if you like.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, not caviar sushi?” Richie asks. “Or, like, those donuts with gold on them?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Good</span>
  </em>
  <span> pizza,” Connor says with a smile. “Though you strike me as a Hawaiian pizza kind of guy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, ha,” Richie says. Since Eddie mentioned his jacket was boring, Richie’s been wearing more Hawaiian shirts to work. He’s not sure how deep the jab was meant to cut, though. He’s not used to directors giving a shit about what he has to say, and this is all weird to him. “Yeah, trust me, I’d love to drive everyone nuts with my bad taste, but nope. No pineapple for me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good,” Connor says. “How about good old fashioned pepperoni?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sounds great,” Richie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor smiles and calls it in, then pats the seat next to his own. Richie quickly sits. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, I figure we can just go through, get your thoughts on stuff,” Connor says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure,” Richie says. “Yeah. I actually… uh… have a lot of thoughts. Some, dare I say, insightful.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor snorts. “Yeah, I bet.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie’s stomach twists a little, but it’s stupid. Of course Connor doesn’t get the joke. He leans in and finds the first scene that had been a bit questionable. “Um, okay, so, listen. I don’t wanna be all stuffy about all this,” he says. “I just think it’d be funnier if she was actually into it. Like, as it is, it’s just creepy, but it doesn’t have to be.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor nods. “Okay, you have suggestions?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, actually, and we wouldn’t have to tweak it a lot,” Richie says. “Right? Just a line here and there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Connor says, and circles the line Richie points at. “Great. That’s exactly what we need.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie smiles, feeling proud of himself. He can’t wait to tell Eddie. “And the next scene, too…” he says, paging quickly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie is kind of amazed how well Connor listens. He hadn’t been expecting this much back and forth, but he’s enjoying it. Connor is pretty funny himself. Richie hasn’t really had much of a conversation with the guy before this - he’s a stand-up comedian, first and foremost, and he thinks Connor’s mostly been asking him to improv using his lines as guidance and not interfering a lot.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But as it turns out, he’s smart and funny and… actually really attractive.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie hasn’t really thought of any guys but Eddie since they’d met, but as he’s bumping shoulders with Connor and Connor’s laughing at his jokes, it’s hard not to fall into the habit of getting a little breathless around any cute guy willing to talk to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s even worse after the pizza arrives and Connor pours them each another drink. They’re just chatting and eating and Richie’s a little tipsy and maybe he gets a little bit of butterflies every time Connor seems to intentionally lean closer to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, how come you know all this stuff?” Connor asks, casually, while filling Richie’s glass again. “You got a kinky girlfriend or something?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The butterflies in Richie’s stomach turn to lead and he takes a sip of the scotch to avoid looking at Connor. “Oh, uh, no,” he says. “Actually, funny story, my roommate sort of press-ganged me into talking to a guy she knows about it. Like, a professional Dom.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor freezes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, strictly in a professional manner, though,” Richie says quickly. “He just sort of walked me through his process.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” Connor says. “So it’s not, like…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No no no,” Richie says. “The guy’s a professional in real life. Real above board stuff. And uh… you know. I’m only… asking about it, not… I mean…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Connor says. “So you’re not, uh…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Panic surges through Richie. “Not what?” he snaps. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Deny, deny, deny.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Except then Connor’s kissing him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie’s never kissed a guy before. He still isn’t, he’s just sitting there stiff as a board, unable to move or segue out of the panic. And Connor’s pulling away, and for </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck’s sake,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Richie’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>never kissed a guy </span>
  </em>
  <span>before, he’s an adult gay dude who’s never even held hands with anyone and… </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before Connor can pull away entirely, he kisses back, and Connor’s grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him in closer, and Richie’s reaching for his cheek and even though he’s a little fuzzy from the scotch, it’s the most intense feeling Richie’s ever felt, a shiver that grips his whole body, and–</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then they both seem to lose their nerve at the same time. Richie jerks away, mouth tingling, and Connor looks away and presses the back of his wrist to his mouth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, well,” Richie says, his voice sounding casual off in the distance. “I should go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t have to,” Connor says, reaching over to put his hand on Richie’s thigh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I’m, uh, I’m gonna… uh…” Richie stammers as he stumbles off the chair, legs wobbling with a weird surge of feelings that he doesn’t even want to begin to untangle. “And I will… Uh… I will see you tomorrow.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor gives him a startled look as Richie grabs his jacket and staggers out of the apartment.Then he has the most awkward elevator trip of his life all the way down to the bottom of the building.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>**</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How’d it go?” Stan asks, watching some documentary with Patty wrapped around his middle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie wants to peel his skin off and run into the woods. He wants to stick his entire fist down his throat and scream. He wants to cry or cheer or tell Stan all about it. He wants to go to Eddie’s and actually have the guts to finish coming out to him when Eddie’s saying all kinds of nice things about him and it almost, almost, </span>
  <em>
    <span>almost</span>
  </em>
  <span> feels safe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Great!” he says, giving Stan two thumbs up. “He loved my ideas!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>And also, for some reason, my mouth.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good,” Stan says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jeez, you’re not going to hassle me about how I’m probably making the movie even more crass?” Richie asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, you’ve been doing research,” Stan says. “And this seems like a big deal to you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Almost, almost, almost.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Aw, shucks,” Richie says. “Well, I’m going to go to bed before you make me cry, Staniel.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stan waves him off patiently, and Richie escapes to his room and closes his door so he can have a panic attack against it, his hands clasped over his mouth to keep from anyone hearing him sob.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>**</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the morning, he drags Connor into an isolated corner roughly at the same time that Connor does the same to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So listen, about last night,” Richie starts, even though he hasn’t decided how to end it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sorry, I’m interested in someone else and you’ve made it clear I really, really, really gotta come out to him?</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Obviously no one can know about that,” Connor says quickly, hushed, like they’re going to get sniped the second anyone hears them talking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie freezes. “Uh,” he says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean, look,” Connor says. “No offense or anything, but coming out would be a disaster for me, and it’s even worse if I’m caught making out with </span>
  <em>
    <span>the Trashmouth</span>
  </em>
  <span> on the set of Playboy Paralegal 2.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie feels a little bit like he’s been turned inside out. “Oh, yeah,” he says, with an ugly, loud laugh that crawls its way up his throat like it has a mind of its own. “Fuck that. The jokes just write themselves.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor lets out a sigh of relief. “Okay, good,” he says. “I’m… Good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, no, I totally get it,” Richie says, which is awful to say, because it’s true. “Jeez, can you imagine?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Connor says, laughing. “Yeah. Thanks for being cool, man.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie gives him two thumbs up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Almost,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thinks. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Almost safe enough.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>**</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tries to push through it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This is what the Trashmouth brand was built for, this awful, lingering knowledge that he’s fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>stupid</span>
  </em>
  <span> for being into guys, for having thought that it would be okay this time. That it wouldn’t end in someone being grossed out and having to smooth it over with a joke or someone beating the shit out of him even though he didn’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> anything.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He teases and jabs until Bev slams her door into his face with a smile and a roll of her eyes, and Patty beep beeps him even as she’s leaving, called back from the stairwell and Stan remarks on how he’s being particularly obnoxious.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Worst of all, he shows up on Eddie’s doorstep five minutes late.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You alright?” Eddie asks through the doorway, rather than confirming that Richie can’t do anything right. Can’t even find and kiss another gay guy right.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, filming ran late, sorry,” Richie says. Maybe he didn’t argue enough to get out on time. Connor’s been so awkward, he probably would have jumped to let Richie go a few minutes earlier.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s fine,” Eddie says, taking his jacket. “These things happen.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They happen to Richie more than usual.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But the director liked my ideas,” Richie says, shocked at his own jovial tone. “Managed to kick some proper BDSM etiquette in there </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> be funny.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s great,” Eddie says, smiling. “See? You’re excellent.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He takes Richie by the shoulders and sits him down on the couch.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s try the spanking thing,” Richie blurts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie raises a brow. “Yeah?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’m on a high, I can handle it,” Richie says. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Liar, liar, liar.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mm, no, I don’t think so,” Eddie says, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. “If you’re already riding a high, it’s that much easier to crash. I think we should do something calm. What do you think?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie wants to bolt. He wants it to hurt or he wants to prove he can do something </span>
  <em>
    <span>right, thanks,</span>
  </em>
  <span> or both, and calm doesn’t feel like it’s going to end in either. He’s not calm, he’s twisted up and terrified. “Whatever you say, boss,” he says, because the worse he feels the more his mouth takes over.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe we can try some new types of bondage,” Eddie says. “Hm? Give you some quiet time to process that high, see if we can get you a little further into subspace.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie sighs. He doesn’t want that. He wants to scratch an itch under his skin even if it means peeling himself apart to get to it. But more than that, he wants to please Eddie, so he nods. “Yeah, okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Eddie says, smiling. “That’s a good boy. Can I have your safewords please?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Green is go, yellow is less go, red is no-go,” Richie says, smiling back, watching as Eddie gets the rope. The thought of safewording today makes him sick. Just another thing he can’t do right.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can I have your glasses?” Eddie asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Richie says with a jolt. He’s so close to spiraling, he can’t go it blind. Then he feels like a fucking failure. He can’t even let Eddie take his glasses. They’re just </span>
  <em>
    <span>glasses.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Eddie’s never made him move more than a foot from where he starts the scene, he’s not even going to bump or trip, he’s just...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s fine,” Eddie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Except it’s not, because Richie’s supposed to be good here, and do what Eddie asks of him, and he’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>doing </span>
  </em>
  <span>that just because some bullies used to snap his glasses for fun (and call him slurs that just so happened to hit the mark) and Richie’s a coward.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hands,” Eddie says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie gives him his wrists, and the cool rope slides over his skin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Weirdly enough, even though Richie’s lied to his face, Eddie turns out to be right about this. It feels good, the cool red fabric against his skin, watching the loops go around his arms one by one until he’s lulled into a bit of daze.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie moves up his arms, around his chest, pinning his arms down his chest. For the first time since Wednesday, he breathes a little easier.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie picks up on it, like he always does. “Yeah, you seemed a little keyed up,” he says. “Feel a bit more relaxed?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie nods.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie smiles. He massages his fingers into Richie’s hair and murmurs, “You’re so good,” which is apparently all it takes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Red,” Richie blurts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s hard to tell which of them is more startled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie jerks his hand away. “Are you okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh,” Richie says. He feels weirdly disconnected from himself, like he’s only now become fully aware of his hands and how they’re bound, but they’re not entirely attached to his brain. “Uh, no?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, can you explain?” Eddie asks, in that firm, soft voice, undoing the rope, and Richie breaks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If I’m so fucking good,” he chokes out, “then why the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> am I never good </span>
  <em>
    <span>enough?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie sinks down next to him slowly. “What? Enough for what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie collapses onto his shoulder and lets go, sobbing his goddamn heart out. It’s worse than last time, an absolute fountain of sloppy, messy tears. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Eddie just holds him, arms tight around Richie, smelling like gasoline and some weird aloe shampoo, and Richie loses it a little bit, because Eddie makes him feel so calm and good and he just wants it to last forever.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t understand why it fucking can’t.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What happened?” Eddie says, low and quiet, petting his hair. “Please tell me, even if it’s little by little.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie shakes his head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t have to tell me all of it,” Eddie says. No, </span>
  <em>
    <span>pleads.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t,” Richie croaks. Because it’s always almost, </span>
  <em>
    <span>almost</span>
  </em>
  <span> safe enough, but it never is. There’s always something or someone and it’s never enough. It’s never safe enough, he’s never good enough, it’s never fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>enough.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Rich,” Eddie says. “I want to help.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie lays there, hiccuping softly into his neck.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can you give me a color?” Eddie whispers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yellow,” Richie mumbles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Eddie says, and then stays there, holding him tightly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Would </span>
  </em>
  <span>Eddie</span>
  <em>
    <span> be willing to admit to kissing </span>
  </em>
  <span>the Trashmouth</span>
  <em>
    <span> in public?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Richie wonders.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I kissed someone,” Richie mumbles, “and then, the morning after, they said they didn’t want anyone to know they’d made out with the Trashmouth.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He can feel Eddie’s jaw clench. He really believes it, Richie realizes. He really believes the shit he says about Richie to his face. Richie watches him take deep breaths to compose himself, but Richie’s spiraling into panic. Blinding, paralyzing, sickening panic, because he’s going to say it, he’s going to, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>has</span>
  </em>
  <span> to, it’s right on the tip of his tongue and… </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who was it?” Eddie asks, finally, trying to sound teasing. “Because, you know, I’m not afraid to punch a woman.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>A woman.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Just like that, Richie’s not going to say it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He untangles himself from Eddie’s arms and presses his palms into the floor, trying to get a grip on himself, laughing bitterly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Eddie says softly. “Okay, that clearly didn’t help. I’m sorry. I know teasing doesn’t help when you spiral and I didn’t mean to joke it off, I just thought…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie shakes his head. “No, I… It’s fine,” he says, taking a deep breath. “I think I need to go home and sleep it off.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie frowns at him. “Hey, remember what we talked about? About drops?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie wants to remind him that they barely even did anything because Richie chickened out two seconds in, but he doesn’t. Instead he just smiles and says, “No, seriously, I just… I appreciate the concern, really, but I really need some room to breathe, I think.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie chews his lip, mulling it over, then reluctantly says, “Okay, but text me when you get home or if you need </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Anything at all, got it? And if you don’t feel better in an hour or so, or you feel worse, </span>
  <em>
    <span>call me.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Got it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie nods.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not screwing around,” Eddie says. “Drops can get really bad. Now if you say you need space, then I’m going to trust you, but you need to get in touch with me if </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything </span>
  </em>
  <span>happens, okay? I promise it’s not a problem for me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie nods again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Eddie says. “Are you driving yourself home?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I’m calling an Uber,” Richie mutters.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll do that,” Eddie says. “You drink a glass of water, okay? And eat something when you get home.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Got it,” Richie says, tossing up an </span>
  <em>
    <span>OK</span>
  </em>
  <span> symbol with his hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie hands him the glass of water and awkwardly hovers around him until the Uber arrives, at which point Eddie walks him out to make sure he gets into it okay, brows furrowed. He stands on the curb until Richie’s out of sight, only looking away to pull out his phone as they go around the bend.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie pulls his jacket tighter around himself and weathers the ride home.</span>
</p>
<p><span>He really does mean to eat something when he gets upstairs, but even texting Eddie </span><b><em>home</em></b> <span>is exhausting and once it’s sent he ends up going straight to his room and collapsing on the bed.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>Bev knocks on the door a few minutes later. “Hey, you good?” she asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Leave me alone,” he mumbles into his pillows.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So that’s a ‘No,’” she says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s a ‘Leave me the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> alone, Beverly!’” he snaps, rolling around to sit up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She watches him cooly. She’s hard to startle, and doesn’t seem so much upset with him as worried.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stan’s door, across the hall from Richie’s, opens as well. “What’s going on?” He and Bev share worried looks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing,” Richie says. “I’m sorry I yelled, I just want some sleep, okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He grabs his blanket and rolls himself into it, curling up around the empty feeling in his chest. He can feel them both staring at him before finally the floor creaks, they whisper off to the side, and leave him alone in silence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He has no idea how much time passes, but he assumes it’s dinnertime when Stan knocks on his door again, clearing his throat to get Richie’s attention, because he can smell the food cooking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I said leave me alone, Stanley,” Richie mutters.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not Stanley,” Eddie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie shoots out of bed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie stares him down, arms crossed, leaning against his doorway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you doing here?” Richie asks, swallowing. He has no idea how much trouble he’s in or what happens now, but he’s guessing the Friday sessions are over.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I got - what I thought was - paranoid after you left, and told Bev to text me if you seemed really upset,” Eddie says. “Turns out it wasn’t so paranoid.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, I…” Richie chokes out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m making bigos,” Eddie says, unfolding his arms to reveal a spatula. “Polish cabbage. My dad’s recipe. It’s like the one thing I can cook.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s it?” Richie asks. “You’re not going to yell at me or anything?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And make you feel even worse?” Eddie asks, with a small smile. “No, of course not.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie doesn’t know what to do now, so he just stands there dumbly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look, clearly I said something wrong when I was trying to comfort you, and you don’t have to explain what it was,” Eddie says. “But you were already upset, and on top of that you’re dropping, and I have a responsibility to help you. As your Dom and as your friend. So… I made some food and I’m here for you. And I promise not to start any fights with anyone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie swallows. “Am I still your sub, then?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie clearly tries not to laugh, but he fails. It’s gentle, quiet, and doesn’t make Richie feel like a garbage person at all. “Yeah, Rich, I told you. Barring axe murder, I’m not going to fire you,” he says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess it was a pretty axe-free day,” Richie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie nods, giving him a tender, but scolding look. “However, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> have to be better at letting me take care of you. Not just because it’s my job, but because you’re important to me and I don’t want you to suffer on your own because I said something wrong.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Also if anything happened to me Stan would sue you for all you’re worth and then kill you,” Richie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, I’ve noticed,” Eddie says, smiling. “Just tell me what you need and I promise I’ll do it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Um,” Richie says. “I don’t know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie nods, holding his hand out for Richie. “Start by eating.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He waves Richie out the door until he’s in arm’s reach, at which point he puts a firm hand between Richie’s shoulder blades and pushes him down the hall to the kitchen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He gets Richie to sit down and loads his plate. “Eat slow, it’s heavy,” he warns, loading up his own plate.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie can feel eyes burning into his back and glances over his shoulder to find Bev and Stan staring at him. He grimaces. He has no idea how to apologize to them or even explain his behavior.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, guys,” he says, awkwardly holding up his plate. “You want some polish… stuff?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I doubt it’s kosher,” Stan says. “But I’ll eat some leftovers with you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I will take the unkosher stuff,” Bev says. “Gimme.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie loads up a plate for her too, then sits close to Richie, leaving enough distance between them to not be weird but close enough that Richie can feel his presence. He raps his knuckles against his thigh as if to demonstrate it, and then nods at the food for Richie to eat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie is hungrier than he’d thought, he realizes as he takes his first bite. He takes another few bites, feeling better already.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I told you to eat,” Eddie jabs, smiling as he says it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, okay,” Richie says. “So I’m an idiot, what else is new?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stan makes a face and Bev blatantly kicks him under the table. He goes back to silently staring at Eddie.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry I was such a dick earlier,” Richie says. “I guess I’m not myself when I’m hungry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They all stare at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like the Snickers ad?” Richie explains to no avail. “Ugh, you people are so uncultured.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did something happen?” Bev asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie shakes his head. “I… It’s not important,” he says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bev clearly wants to push the issue, but Stan shakes his head. He’s known Richie longer, he knows how badly Richie can gum up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie clears his throat and returns to his food awkwardly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie gathers the dishes once they’re done, then returns to put his hand on Richie’s shoulder. “So?” he asks. “Can we go back to your room?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie nods. “I’ll talk to you two later, okay?” he tells Bev and Stan.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You better,” Stan mutters, but he lets Richie go with Eddie.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie shuts the door once they’re in Richie’s room, and Richie is slowly going to lose his mind. Eddie is in his room and they’re alone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Would you like me to hold you?” Eddie asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie is going to black out. “Uh,” he says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s a little awkward when it’s not right after a scene, I know,” Eddie says gently. “But it helps with a drop.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure,” Richie says. He hesitates. “Do we… lay down?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you’re comfortable with that,” Eddie says. “However you like.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie clears his throat and carefully lays back onto the bed, hauling his legs up after himself and staring as Eddie takes off his watch, sets it on the bedside table and joins him. “Wanna spoon?” he asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie laughs a little at that. “Nah, how about…” He wriggles until his head is nestled into Eddie’s shoulder, knees tucked up against his side. “This cool?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Very cool,” Eddie says with a gentle smile. “Do you want me to talk, not talk?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean, whatever,” Richie says. “You know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie nods, sweeping his thumb over Richie’s shoulder. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They lay there in silence for a while until Richie can’t help but laugh. “Dude,” he says. “This is so awkward.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie laughs with him. “Well, now it is,” he says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You do </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> often?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Eddie admits. “This is more of a friend service than a Dom service.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, nice,” Richie says. “You could probably make some bank off of this. Just snuggling with people.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have a career in professional cuddling ahead of me, you think?” Eddie teases.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, yeah,” Richie says. “You got strong arms and you smell nice, you’re halfway there already.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie laughs again. “I’ll consider it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie nestles a little closer, smiling softly. “Thanks for coming to check up on me. I’m sorry I lied to you about being… you know, okay. And about needing space. And about…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s fine, Rich,” Eddie says, rubbing his back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie raises a brow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie groans. “Look, I’m not saying I’m not annoyed. But I can manage being a little annoyed, and I can imagine being rejected like you were today probably hurt you a lot. It’s okay to slip up sometimes when you’re upset.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie takes a deep breath. “Yeah, okay, if you say so.” He pauses. “Anyway, I don’t mean to be all down on myself, I know that’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>the rules</span>
  </em>
  <span> and shit. I’m just glad you’re here, man.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m glad I’m here too,” Eddie says. “If there’s anything else I can do to help, just let me know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie wishes he could ask for Eddie to make him come out somehow, but that clearly doesn’t work. He nods instead, tucking his head against Eddie’s collarbone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know, uh, I don’t know how to say this gracefully,” Eddie says, “but someone is going to want you someday. Openly. Because you’re really great.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie is feeling way too much all at once. “I gotta pee,” he breathes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright,” Eddie says. “I’ll get you some more water in the meantime, okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure,” Richie says, slipping out of bed and padding over to the bathroom.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He actually does have to pee, so he does that, then washes his hands longer than strictly necessary to give himself a moment to process everything.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie still isn’t back in his room when he returns. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie swallows, wandering down the hallway, debating whether he should pester Eddie until he comes back to Richie’s room. It’s stupid to feel lonely moments after he’s just seen Eddie, but he does.He gravitates towards the kitchen, where he can hear hushed talking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“--been off the past few days, really,” Bev whispers. “But it didn’t seem all that bad. Sometimes he just gets a little jittery and then we find out what’s been bothering him. He’s never crashed like this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He said something about kissing…” Eddie whispers, pausing for a moment before saying, “some girl or something.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Eddie, you don’t have to do that with us, we already know,” Stan whispers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie’s entire body goes taut. Stan sounds gentle, on the verge of apologetic, and Richie knows he’s hit the mark.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Know what?” Eddie asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a long silence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, shit,” Bev whispers, but Richie doesn’t hear Eddie’s answer because it’s at this point that he pukes all over their hallway.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>:)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i never technically SAID you'd be waiting until monday :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Okay, maybe I shouldn’t have fed you a ton of cabbage and sausage,” Eddie says, looking Richie over. He’s pale as a sheet, but as he looks around, so are Bev and Stan. “What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing,” Stan says quickly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie’s torn between pressing them for answers and making sure Richie’s okay, but at the moment, Richie takes precedence. He pulls him away from the vomit and sits him down by the kitchen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How long have you guys known?” Richie croaks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They both cringe and look at Eddie. “Maybe we should have this conversation privately,” Bev suggests. Eddie realizes she means without him, and since he doesn’t understand anything that’s happening here, he won’t argue, but hell if he doesn’t want to. He’s been itching to get into a fight since Richie mentioned kissing someone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That’s not a useful thought, though, so he takes a step back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No!” Richie cries the moment Eddie moves to take his hands off Richie’s shoulder. “No, you guys brought it up. Don’t get shy now!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They exchange guilty looks, and something protective rears its head in Eddie’s chest. He looks at Bev and Stan. “Brought </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span> up?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stan looks at Richie, subtly shaking his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, go on, spit it out!” Richie snaps.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stan shifts uncomfortably. “I’ve known Richie since we were seven. He’s never kissed a girl.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I kissed Susan Reed in the second grade,” Richie mutters.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>said</span>
  </em>
  <span> you did,” Stan says. He looks like he might be on the verge of vomiting himself. “After that rumor went around about…” He winces. “You know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie folds in on himself even more. “Was it obvious to everyone?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No. I know your tells, you know that,” Stan mutters.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bev sighs. “You know right after Tom, when I was moving in and we were all really uncomfortable and you chose to </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> fixate on how I’d be living with two straight guys? It… got weird. So I asked Stan about it because I didn’t want it to be a fight, and he said, ‘None of your business,’ with that look he gets in his eyes, you know?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That makes Richie smile tentatively. “Yeah, I know the look.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I panicked,” Stan says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How much right after Tom?” Richie asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Very,” Bev says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, okay, that’s a pretty good excuse,” Richie says, though Bev and Stan don’t look any less guilty.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie glances back and forth between them all. He still doesn’t get it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stan swallows. “I really, really thought Eddie must know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You always look </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> relaxed coming home from Eddie’s,” Bev says. “We figured it was probably because… you know… you had someone to talk to finally. Because he’s also…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It clicks, and it takes literally all the self control Eddie has ever had to not blurt, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you’re GAY?</span>
  </em>
  <span> at the top of his lungs to Richie, who looks like he might crumble if anyone so much breathes at him funny right now. “Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>he says instead. “You said </span>
  <em>
    <span>they.</span>
  </em>
  <span> You said they and I just </span>
  <em>
    <span>assumed</span>
  </em>
  <span> it was a woman! Oh, fuck, I’m an idiot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was about to tell you,” Richie chokes out. “But it just was never…” He sniffles loudly. “I’ve never told anyone. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No one, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and I knew once I started it wouldn’t stop and I didn’t know how far it could go before… I don’t even know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, honey,” Bev says, sinking to her knees to wrap her arms around Richie.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stan is more refined about it, carefully taking a seat like a worn father and grasping Richie’s knee. “I’m so sorry,” he says. “I was worried and I just wanted Eddie to cut to the chase.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie wraps an arm around Richie while he sniffles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If it’s any consolation, I think I’ve really made an ass of myself,” Stan mutters, blinking away tears. “I’m sure when the dust clears you’ll have a field day with it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie rolls his eyes. “Yeah, being an ass is my thing, Stan, you know that.” He tries to wipe his face with his sleeve and look unaffected. He misses by a mile. “Jesus, aren’t you guys sick of me crying this much?” he jokes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Richie,” Eddie sighs. “Come on.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“God, I’m so stupid,” Richie mutters. “If I’m being honest with myself, I knew you guys wouldn’t mind, but I was just so scared and I…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stan quietly touches his forehead to Richie’s knee and stays there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We know,” Bev says, resting her forehead on Richie’s cheek.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s alright,” Eddie says. “That’s alright, everyone is scared about coming out. I get anxiety every single time I tell anyone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They stay there for a while until Richie feels good enough to wipe his nose on Bev’s shoulder. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Gross,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> she complains.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’re silent for a while longer before Stan slowly raises his head. “So… what Eddie said, about you kissing a girl...?” he asks tentatively.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t even kiss him!” Richie cries. “He kissed me first and I kissed back and then the next day he basically said even if he wanted to come out it wouldn’t be with me!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll fucking beat the shit out of him,” Eddie says. “Just tell me where and when.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hell yeah,” Bev says. “We’re gonna jump that guy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie snorts, laughing a wheezy laugh around his crying. “No, guys, no,” he says. “Stand down, abort. I’m okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s still vomit on our floor,” Stan reminds him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’m sorry, I’ll clean it up,” Richie mutters.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The fuck you will,” Eddie says. “Jesus, just stay there, you’ve had a long enough day as is.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean, okay. You have fun mopping up my puke, dude,” Richie says, taking a shaky breath and sniffling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie rolls his eyes and gets up. Bev joins him to help him find their bleach and paper towels, leaving Stan to sit and talk quietly with Richie.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In a deeply unfortunate twist, it’s not until Eddie is gingerly laying down an ungodly thick layer of paper towels over the affected area to avoid puking himself at the smell that he finally realizes: the straight guy he’s falling for isn’t straight.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He has no idea where to take that thought, because the (gay) guy he’s falling for (has fallen for) is also crying over a brutal rejection by some other guy (who Eddie hates with every fiber of his being now) and is Eddie’s client. And also his friend.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He really wishes he didn’t have to grapple with this whole situation while mopping up vomit with his foot. He’s going to deal with it later, probably while eating an entire tub of rocky road ice cream.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As he’s finally blissfully drenching the whole hallway in more bleach than he’d need to dispose of a body, Richie hobbles past him, giving him an awkward smile as he points at the bathroom. “Gonna, uh,” he says. “Teeth. Brushing my teeth.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie nods quickly and steps aside. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He finishes his mopping, then hurries after Richie. “Mind if I…?” he asks, pointing at the bathtub.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure,” Richie says, muffled around his toothbrush.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Eddie says, moving to roll up his pants. They’re wet, which is not surprising given that Eddie steeped his entire feet in bleach, but fuck if it doesn’t set off a strange part of his brain that seems to exist purely to scream, </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh God why is it wet oh God.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He lets out a slow breath and tries not to let it take over.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie notices right away, spitting out toothpaste into the sink to ask, “You good?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’m just… overstimulated, I think,” Eddie says, taking slow breaths. “And my pants are wet and it’s just… it’s a whole thing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean, I’ve never seen anyone go to town so hard on bleach before,” Richie teases, before he gets sheepish. If Eddie’s overstimulated, Richie must be feeling like he stuck his finger in a light socket by now. “Just toss them in the laundry. If you want. You can sleep on the couch again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He raps his fingers against the sink, nervous.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, okay,” Eddie says, undoing his belt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean,” Richie blurts. “Look. I’m not… I wasn’t… Nothing creepy, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie softens. This is about Richie right now, and Richie’s fidgety and worried. Eddie’s had enough time as his Dom to know what he must be thinking. “Richie, is this what you meant when you said you lie?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Richie breathes, reaching up to fiddle with his glasses.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As I’ve said before, I Dom for all kinds of genders and sexualities,” Eddie says softly. “It’s okay. There’s nothing creepy about it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you don’t think I should have told you?” Richie asks sharply.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Obviously I wish you had,” Eddie says. “I could have dealt with some of your drops better. But it’s okay. I’m not upset with you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie bites his bottom lip. “And… it doesn’t change anything with…?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Depends,” Eddie says. “Is there anything you want to do during scenes you didn’t admit to in order to hide your sexuality?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie relaxes, finally. “Yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Eddie says. “Do you want to discuss that now?” The pants are wet against his ankles, but he shoves it aside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It doesn’t escape Richie’s attention, though. “First take off your pants, hot stuff,” he says with a grin before he slides his hand over his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie laughs, shimmying out of his pants.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah,” Richie says, nodding sagely. “Calvin Klein.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut the fuck up,” Eddie says, tossing his pants at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie laughs, rinsing his mouth one last time before leaning against the sink. “Anyway,” he says. “Um... I really… wanna be told it’s okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie raises a brow as he swings his feet into the tub and starts rinsing them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean, I know we were already doing that,” Richie says. “But, like, just… that I’m okay. As I am. I… I didn’t know how to explain the, uh, the guilt, you know?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie nods. “I picked up on that,” he admits. “I thought it was just Catholicism.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie laughs. “Oh, it is.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anything else?” Eddie asks, trying not to laugh too hard.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie rubs his arm absently, hugging himself a little. “Um. I mean, I don’t want to make things weird.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie grits his teeth and shelves his feelings. “It’s not weird,” he says. “Rich, I do this sort of thing all the time. Whatever you’d like, it’s okay. We’ll keep everything we do during scenes professional.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie clears his throat and mumbles, “Can </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> take off my pants?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie is in hell, but Richie’s giving him a shy look, perched on the edge of a smile, so he shelves that thought too. He is running out of shelves in his brain. “During scenes or right now?” Eddie asks, teasing. Richie looks relieved, which is a good reward for Eddie being ever-so-slightly an adult about this. “Because I don’t know how to tell you this, but you don’t need my permission to undress in your own home.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t?” Richie asks, fake shocked. “Oh, man, that would have made my life </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> much easier these past few weeks!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie bursts out laughing, and Richie beams with pride.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, dude, I mean…” Richie sighs. “I just… uh… you know, what you said about… touching my lips?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie nods, letting Richie spit it out on his own time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And like,” Richie continues, “you know babies?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie can’t keep a straight face at that. “Yes, I’ve heard of babies.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie gives him a sheeping smile. “You know how you’re like… supposed to take off your shirt and let ‘em lay on your chest for a while because… like…?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah,” Eddie says. “Yeah, I think I get it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie bites his lip. “I want to be touched. Is that… cool?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie turns off the water. “Yeah,” he says. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Professional, Kaspbrak, professional.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Richie is a great sub and his friend who </span>
  <em>
    <span>needs</span>
  </em>
  <span> this outlet. Domming has helped Eddie so much in getting his life together, he can’t rob Richie of the same if subbing does it for him. “I don’t do full nudity, but if you would like to strip down to your boxers and try some full body bondage, I think that would really work for you. We can add some sensation play to that too, like I’ve been doing with your hair and scalp.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie lets out a breath like he’s been holding it this whole time. “Okay. Awesome. That sounds really good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie smiles, then lets it drop so he can be serious. “But Rich, when something is liable to stress you out or make drops more likely, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>need </span>
  </em>
  <span>to know about it. I need you to be honest about how you’re feeling before a scene. I know coming out is a big deal, so just to be clear, today is water under the bridge, but it can’t keep happening. Got it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Richie murmurs. “Yeah, okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie has to stand on his tiptoes to ruffle his hair from this angle while they’re standing, which makes Richie let out that braying laughter that Eddie really likes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can we still cuddle?” Richie asks. “Professionally, of course.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course,” Eddie says. “Though I assume Bev and Stan are still going to want to talk.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie sighs. “Yeah, probably.” He stops short, giving an excited little wriggle. “Oh, yeah!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He drops his pants and immediately does the splits.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ta-da!” Richie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie is going to lose his goddamn mind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>**</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Man, I can’t believe you guys just </span>
  <em>
    <span>assumed</span>
  </em>
  <span> that the gay guy I spend a bunch of time with knows I’m gay,” Richie says. “Unbelievable.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stan sighs. He and Bev are wrapped around Richie on the couch, leaving Eddie to awkwardly sit in the armchair. “You’re going to use this against me for the rest of my life, aren’t you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, definitely,” Richie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stan gives him a halfhearted glower. “Fair enough.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie leans against him. “To be fair, I probably would have stayed in the closet until the day I died if you hadn’t, and then you’d have skeletons in your closet.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stan sighs heavily. “Not your best.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I should workshop that one,” Richie replies, giggling when Stan allows him a smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We won’t tell anyone else,” Bev says. “Not even by accident.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, bold words, Ms. Marsh,” Richie says, shifting awkwardly. “Besides, if Stan doesn’t talk this out with Patty, his head will explode.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Our loose lips will be sealed,” she insists. “Under penalty of death, if need be.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie snorts. “Seriously, it’s fine. You don’t have to make a big deal about it.” He looks at Stan. “And you can tell Patty. Then I don’t have to tell her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Richie,” Stan says severely.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie looks at Bev for assistance. She grins. “Do you want me to reveal a secret that will take some of the attention off you?” she asks, nuzzling against him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Now?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Stan gripes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh my god, tell me,” Richie says, all too happy to take the offer. “Tell me tell me tell me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have a boyfriend,” Bev says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> it!” Stan says. “Who is he? Where does he live?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jesus Christ, Stanley,” Richie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t believe in him and he won’t stop me,” Stan says. “Beverly!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“His name is Ben, he owns a flower shop and I will not tell you where because he’s the </span>
  <em>
    <span>sweetest </span>
  </em>
  <span>and you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>too mean,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Bev says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bev, I am your accountant, I can find the receipt for the last time you bought flowers!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Dammit.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Down, Stanley, down,” Richie says before grinning at Bev. “But we want to meet this mystery flower man, young lady!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m older than you!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, but I’m an old soul.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bullshit you are.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie smiles as he watches them bicker, feeling a little left out but glad that Richie’s so surrounded by people who care for him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie notices him looking and smiles at him. “Anyway, now that we’ve clarified everything, Eds and I are gonna have some quiet time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stan raises his brow. “Right,” he says. “I’m…” He shakes his head and lets it go.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you ever want to talk about this or anything else again,” Bev offers, glancing at Eddie. “We’re here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I know,” Richie says, dragging Eddie out of his chair. “Speaking of which, I, uh, hired Eddie.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Without</span>
  </em>
  <span> coming out of the closet?” Bev asks, mortified.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yep,” Richie says, shoving Eddie down the hallway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stan buries his face in his hands as Richie shoves Eddie into the hall.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie gets Eddie into his room and then gives him an eager look. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie laughs. “Okay, okay, come here, I’ve got you.” He throws himself down onto the bed and spreads his arms. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie hesitates, then takes off his glasses before crawling into bed with Eddie. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie doesn’t know why “falling for the straight guy” is such a cliche when Richie’s newfound availability makes this so much harder. His chest is bursting with how holding Richie makes him feel, the way Richie has to fold himself in to get his long limbs and broad chest nestled into Eddie’s arms and the way he hides his face in Eddie’s shoulder, like Eddie can provide a shelter from the whole world and Richie’s own insecurities. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie wants to roll him over and kiss him senseless. He wants so badly for that to be what Richie needs right now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But then Richie lifts his head and lets out a sloppy little laugh and says, “Hey, I know I’ve been a hot mess all day, but can you maybe, uh, tell me I’m good anyway? I’ll pay extra.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What Richie </span>
  <em>
    <span>needs</span>
  </em>
  <span> is support in the firmest way Eddie can provide it. When Eddie came out, he had Bill to help him through it, and now Eddie has to give as good as he got.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Richie, you have had every excuse to be erratic today,” Eddie says, heart aching as he runs his hand up Richie’s back and holds him tight. “Of course you’re still good. And I say that on the house, because I really, really mean it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie gives him a little chuckle at that. “Okay, okay, that feels weird. Hey, did you know the Teletubbies are six feet tall?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie blinks at him a few times. It’s a little hard to react to something like that against the horrible backdrop of falling in love with the wrong person at the wrong time. “What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Teletubbies,” Richie says. “They’re, like, me-sized. Does that fuck you up or what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie stares at him. This all feels like a fever dream. “Is this... helping?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean, yeah, if you were to lay here holding me while I tell you Teletubby facts, I think I would feel pretty confident in you liking me as a person despite how much of a disaster I’ve been in trying to avoid the mortifying ordeal of being known, yes,” Richie says, grinning.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie can’t even take the time to dissect that. “Facts </span>
  <em>
    <span>multiple?”</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, absolutely, dude,” Richie says. “In order to keep the bunnies in the background to scale, they had to acquire specially bred rabbits that were meant to be eaten.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie finds himself oddly enraptured. “Go on.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They also sued Walmart. Can you imagine being the judge on that case? I would pay money.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“To watch?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“To be the judge!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie laughs, somewhere between charmed and horrified.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They sued them over a knock-off brand,” Richie says, wriggling up to look Eddie in the eyes. “Called, I shit you not, Bubbly Chubbies.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie loses it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>**</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie ends up falling asleep on top of him, pinning Eddie into place and dooming him to a sleepless night of trying not to think too much about how Richie tucks himself into Eddie and snores ever so softly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the morning, he eats an awkward breakfast with Bev, Stan and Richie. It seems as though Bev and Stan have a plan for cheering Richie up with video games, and they’re trying to gently eke Eddie out the door. Eddie doesn’t mind. Richie seems to be feeling better and Eddie has to get some air anyway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He drives around town aimlessly for an hour or so, then heads over to Bill’s to all-but kick down his door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So I cannot tell you the details, but I seem to have gotten myself into a situation where everything I do is ethically unsound,” Eddie says. “Or, uh, just… like… bad. Just generally upsetting.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is this about Richie?” Bill asks, unimpressed, letting Eddie into his apartment. Mike sits at the dinner table, eating pita chips and looking over Bill’s script.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, first of all…”  Eddie says, putting his hands on his hips to take stock of the situation. “Does Mike live here now?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was between apartments, you know that,” Mike says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I feel like I should have been informed about this,” Eddie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bill squints at him. “I th-think you’re deflecting.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s true. Bill has never been one to talk much about his relationships. The only reason Eddie was even aware of Mike was because Bill kept wondering out loud if he was free at Eddie. With Audra they’d lived together for three months before Eddie had noticed, though that was mostly on Eddie, seeing as Eddie had been Bill’s roommate at the time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, well,” Eddie says. “So what if it’s about Richie, huh? He’s my best client.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bill just gives him that look he gives when he can’t believe Eddie and doesn’t even know what to say to him. Tired, but mostly baffled. “Eddie.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh but, good news, Bev’s roommate, Stan, doesn’t hate you anymore,” Eddie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He hated me?” Bill asks, blinking. “Wh-Why?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nevermind,” Eddie says. “Look, there’s a lot of stuff happening with Richie that I can’t say because it’s private but you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>right</span>
  </em>
  <span> I like him </span>
  <em>
    <span>so much</span>
  </em>
  <span> and it’s such a fucking…! Ugh! Why </span>
  <em>
    <span>him?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bill’s baffled-disappointed look intensifies. “M-Maybe you should tell Richie you can’t Dom for him anymore, if it’s too much for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> too much for me,” Eddie snaps. “And I don’t want to stop seeing him as a client. I mean, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>needs </span>
  </em>
  <span>this and he is way too nervous to find a different Dom. It’s good for him and I </span>
  <em>
    <span>enjoy</span>
  </em>
  <span> it. It’s just that I…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like him?” Mike offers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes!” Eddie growls. “Yeah, I do, okay? Like a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot.</span>
  </em>
  <span> A </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot</span>
  </em>
  <span> a lot. Like… I wanna </span>
  <em>
    <span>date</span>
  </em>
  <span> him a lot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mike whistles, impressed. Eddie doesn’t often get past one night stands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So tell him,” Bill says. “Better t-to get it out there, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Also not an option,” Eddie says. Richie’s just poked his first toe out of the closet. If Eddie immediately accosts him with his own feelings, Richie will have no idea what to do.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bill sighs. “Eddie, I want to help, I really do, but if you can’t stop Domming for him and you can’t tell him your feelings, what exactly do y-you want me to say?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know!” Eddie shouts. “I just had to tell someone before I explode!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bill nods and slings his arm around Eddie’s shoulder. “It’s g-gonna be okay, Eddie.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Would you like to play scrabble with us?” Mike asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Would I, a mechanic, like to play Scrabble with a librarian and a writer?” Eddie says. “No, I would not.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hm,” Mike says good naturedly. “Your loss. Want to sit with us while we play Scrabble?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie mulls that over, then mumbles, “Yes, I would.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>**</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie spends a week furiously trying to shove every romantic thought in his head out of his system and into a deep hole. He wants to do right by Richie, and if that means he has to watch Titanic five times in as many days and go on a lot of very emotional, possibly irresponsibly-fast jogs, so be it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On Friday, Richie shows up in a bright red jacket. He looks nervous, and clearly Eddie’s clothes don’t help, because he does a full body sweep of Eddie’s body with his eyes, taking in the fact that Eddie is wearing an AC/DC shirt and yoga pants instead of the usual button-up he does for scenes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are we working out?” Richie asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ll see,” Eddie says, wishing he could tell himself Richie is checking him out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie scolds himself and shoves his feelings aside and goes back to the plan he’d meticulously gone over a million times in his head last night. He looks Richie up and down too and informs him, “You look like a fire hydrant.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I knew you’d like it,” Richie says, grinning wide.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I want to be touched,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he’d said. Eddie reaches up and slides his hands under the jacket and eases it off Richie’s shoulders. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” Richie mumbles, as Eddie takes his jacket and hangs it up. Richie stops short when he sees the state of Eddie’s living room. The sofa is shoved up beside the entrance to the kitchen and the coffee table is dragged over to the side, and Eddie’s put down several mats in the newly empty living room. “Again, what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie locks his front door and then steps back. “You’ll see. Take the rest of your clothes off. Keep your boxers on.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Um,” Richie says, as Eddie moves to gather the rope he’d prepared. At Eddie’s raised brow, he quickly adds, “I don’t know, I guess I’m worried about making it weird.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie sits down on the arm of the couch. “Weird how?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know,” Richie says. “I mean… I’ve never told anyone, but that didn’t stop rumors from happening. And… people… Well, let’s just say I stopped using the locker rooms in middle school.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie nods, heart hurting at the thought of a much smaller Richie trying to hide his attraction to boys and getting bullied and treated like the aggressor for it anyway. “I know. I didn’t know I was gay until--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Until you got Owen Wilsoned, yes,” Richie says, settling down beside Eddie on the couch to smirk up at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you gonna let me talk or do you just want to make references all day?” Eddie gripes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry, sorry,” Richie says. “Please continue, Julia Roberts.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie groans. “Yes. Until I got Owen Wilsoned. But I had plenty of rumors floating around about me too. I already wasn’t using the locker room because my mother thought they were basically death traps. Fungal infections and lice and…” He sighs. “And, you know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, menaces like me,” Richie jokes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie glares at him. “Don’t say that.” If he pulls out the Dom voice a little for that, sue him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Richie says softly. “Sorry, go on.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, the rumor was mostly that I was secretly a ‘girl’,” Eddie says, making air quotes. “Which, ironically, did have a lot of supposedly straight guys trying to catch a peek at my junk.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie grins. “Hey, what’s gay about trying to ogle a guy’s penis?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My </span>
  <em>
    <span>point</span>
  </em>
  <span> is,” Eddie says, hoping to God he doesn’t start laughing at Richie’s stupid grin over a joke that’s not the least bit funny. It’s just </span>
  <em>
    <span>him,</span>
  </em>
  <span> with the way his teeth slip over his bottom lip when he smiles ear to ear. “I get it. I do. But it’s just a bunch of garbage people say. It’s not real, and you being into guys doesn’t make any of this weird.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(The fact that Eddie is into Richie, specifically, does, but Richie looks so relieved to hear it that Eddie solemnly swears he’s going to prioritize being a good Dom to Richie over getting his feelings muddled, even if it kills him.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright,” Richie says, “but for the record I always knew you wanted to see me naked.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Desperately,” Eddie growls at him, sarcastic. God, he does, though. He really does.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie tugs off his shirt and Eddie hisses. There are long, red gashes all the way up his back. “What happened here?” he asks, settling his hand on Richie’s bare back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie startles with a squeak, then grins up at Eddie. “I was sentenced to 40 lashes and walking the plank,” he says in a pirate voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie raises a brow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nah, man, they’re stretch marks,” Richie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie blinks at him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Stretch </span>
  </em>
  <span>marks?” They look like something massive raked its claws through Richie’s back. Then again, Richie’s shoulders are awfully broad and he is </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> tall. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Richie says. “I’m not even kidding when I say these shoulders ‘n’ legs happened overnight.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You were a small kid?” Eddie asks, smiling at the thought.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was normal sized,” Richie says. “And then…” He tries to do the splits across the couch, stopped by his jeans again, and falls off the side with a startled yelp.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie laughs. “Yes, I see.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Legs,” Richie explains from the floor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie does not point out how aware he is of Richie’s legs. “Let’s see them,” he says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie throws his legs over the couch to stay upside down as he wrangles off his pants. “Boom,” he says, gesturing to red and white stretch marks that streak across the expanse of his thighs under the thick black hair that goes all the way down to his feet. “Call me… Accordion Man.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The urge to kiss Richie is somehow only secondary to the urge to laugh at him, especially when Richie is upside down and hitting him with the full bucktooth whammy. “How bad were the growing pains?” he asks, trying to get himself to calm the fuck down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Terrible!” Richie says cheerfully. “I would wake my parents up crying every other night and then they had to sit up with me to massage charlie horses out of my legs. My mom said if they didn’t stop by the time I was ready to move out they’d have to put me down like a horse with a broken leg.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie winces at that, not sure how seriously to take it. Richie doesn’t seem to mind, but if Eddie’s mother had said something like that...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But I survived!” Richie cries in a confused accent somewhere between English and Teddy Roosevelt. He thrusts one leg up in the air like a cancan dancer. “And just </span>
  <em>
    <span>look</span>
  </em>
  <span> at the result!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie tries to respond, has to choke down a chuckle, then shakes his head and says, “Are you being this weird because you’re comfortable or because you’re uncomfortable?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie pauses, wrinkling his nose. “Honestly? Both.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Both,” Eddie says, unimpressed. “How’s that work?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” Richie says. “I feel, y’know, safe with you. I just don’t want to fuck it up, and somehow both of those feelings go right to my mouth.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie firmly ignores the somersault his stomach does at </span>
  <em>
    <span>I feel safe with you. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Does anything </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> go right to your mouth?” he asks, getting his hands under Richie’s armpits and sweeping him across the floor to the center of the mat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie giggles at the manhandling, eyes sparkling. Eddie makes note of that. “Not that I know of.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie sighs, taking Richie’s face into his hands and tilting his head to get Richie focused. “Safewords.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Red is stop, yellow is slow, green is go,” Richie intones, then looks up at Eddie, biting his lip.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good,” Eddie says. “Now shush.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie wriggles his feet, giving Eddie a desperate look.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie combs his fingers through Richie’s hair. “One more,” he says. “Then I’m going to be strict for a while, because you’re a little hyped right now, aren’t you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” Richie says. “But I need two responses, please please please?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright,” Eddie says. “Because you asked nicely.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do my socks stay on?” Richie asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie leans back, trying to guess which answer Richie is hoping for, given that he clearly has a joke queued up. “Yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie nods sagely. “Good thinking. That will make things much less sexually charged.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie sighs and laughs at the same time, resulting in a strange noise. “A crucial note, thank you,” he says. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Also,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he doesn’t add,</span>
  <em>
    <span> it definitely won’t.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie beams, but his eyes flicker hesitantly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie tugs his hair gently. “I’m glad you feel comfortable. I’m proud of you for relaxing so quickly, even if you’re still nervous.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie softens at that. “Yeah?” he asks, then, “Fuck!” when he realizes he’s broken the rules.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Eddie says, chuckling. “Maybe we’ll ease into it. I’m going to be more hands on this time, so I think you’ll be distracted.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie opens his mouth energetically to say something about Eddie being hands on, and Eddie gently puts a finger over his lips. Richie closes his mouth, looking very contrite.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“There</span>
  </em>
  <span> we go. Good boy,” Eddie says. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jesus fucking Christ he’s so cute.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Hold on.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He gets up, feeling Richie’s eyes on him as he rifles through his shelves to find the sheet of gold stars. He presses one to Richie’s shoulder. Richie grins.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, what we’re going to do is a type of shibari,” Eddie says. “It involves a lot of touching, like you asked. It’s not exactly a workout, but there is some movement involved, so it might be easier without your glasses, but it’s not necessary. Can I take them?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie mulls it over, but he seems more relaxed than the first few times when Eddie had asked. “Yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie smiles and takes his glasses, folding them and setting them on the coffee table. “They’re on the table if you need them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie nods, blinking at him owlishly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, shibari is basically rope art,” Eddie says. Talking about it makes it easier. There’s a rhythm to this that Eddie has practiced and perfected, and not even his feelings for Richie are going to throw him off. “And as art, there’s a lot of performance to it. I learned this approach about a year into Domming from a nice French lady.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie’s lips quirk into a smile, like he’s itching to ask who was tied up. He can sit with that question, Eddie decides.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie moves behind Richie, kneeling with him and kneading his shoulders. “Relax,” he murmurs, when Richie impulsively tries to watch his movements. “It’s okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pushes Richie’s head down, then puts an arm around him, clamped over his chest, and drags him back, pushing his knees apart so he’s sitting on the ground with his feet beside his ass, shoulders digging into Eddie’s collarbone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In light of Eddie’s predicament, this approach is a bit of a draw. On one hand, this is terribly intimate. On the other hand, he’s already thinking positions, loops, movement, pacing. It makes it easier to focus on Richie’s needs within the scene rather than Eddie’s wants.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If anything aches or tugs, let me know,” Eddie says. “Safeword, or if you forget in the moment, ‘ow’ counts too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie nods, leaning expectantly against Eddie’s chest as Eddie pulls the rope up in front of him where even he can see it. He unspools it, stretching it over Richie’s chest, gently slipping his hands down to Richie’s wrists to bring them up in front of him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie’s breath speeds up, but he stays silent and still against Eddie. Eddie rakes his nose up Richie’s spine to reassure him, then begins threading the rope around his wrists, binding them together.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He takes his time, making the knots neat, then gathering Richie’s wrists off to the side so he can loop the rope around him, sliding it against his throat as he does. Richie’s throat bobs, and he lets out a small gasp.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d definitely be quiet in bed, Eddie thinks, bringing the rope around Richie’s broad shoulders to pull it tight and bind Richie’s wrists to his chest. He pauses, reaching up to tug Richie’s hair. “There we go,” he says. “You’re doing so well, being quiet and moving with me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pulls the rope tight and knots it so Richie’s arms are firmly pinned, and Richie whimpers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You like being bound like this?” Eddie asks, tugging him back against Eddie’s shoulder to murmur into his ears. “Is it relaxing not to be able to move?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” Richie breathes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s relaxing for me too,” Eddie says. “I like how much you trust me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That makes Richie take a sharp breath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie chuckles. “You like knowing that I’m enjoying it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” Richie mumbles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I do,” Eddie says. He’s pushing it, but he doesn’t want to pull back to safety. “I like touching you, I like tying you up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie makes a noise in the back of his throat, </span>
  <em>
    <span>relieved.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d like to try something,” Eddie says, trying to swing back into action before he gets too far into his head. “You’re pretty flexible, I want to see if you can comfortably do this position. But only comfortably, it’s okay if it’s too much.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie nods, and Eddie softly moves him, pulling his foot up Eddie’s thigh to wrap the rope around his foot, up through the loop at his back, and pulls it tight until Richie’s heel is almost in his back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ow,” Richie says, something like a laugh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie laughs with him. “Alright, that was pretty far! Great job!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie keeps laughing, that relief weaving its way into it as Eddie undoes the tie around his foot, then his chest. It sounds like he’s finally unfurled a large knot of worry in his chest. Coming out, no doubt, was a large part of that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie hums, wanting to make Richie laugh some more even as he works him into subspace. “Okay, another position.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He lets Richie’s bound wrists fall into his lap, pushing him up onto his knees again. He takes the back of Richie’s neck firmly into his hand and uses it to steady him as he pulls Richie’s arms up over his head, then back down so his elbows are bent over his ears and his hands are between his shoulder blades.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He ties the rope and pulls Richie back into his arms, grinning. “Hi.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie grins back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love your smile,” Eddie says. Richie smiles wider, and Eddie holds him in one arm while he uses the other to reach for the stickers and get one to stick on Richie’s nose.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie giggles, and Eddie laughs with him. “Okay, that’s not the most comfortable position, let’s free you up a little.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He undoes the rope keeping Richie’s arms behind his back and pulls his wrists back into his lap. “Did you like how it was earlier? Up against your chest?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” Richie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good,” Eddie says. “Good, we’ll do that and then I’ll tie your legs.” He pulls Richie’s wrists up against his chest and hooks his chin over Richie’s shoulder. “You’re doing so great. I love how well you’re moving with me, it’s amazing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie blushes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Eddie thinks. It’s so tempting to turn his face, just a little, and kiss the side of Richie’s neck. He pulls away, tugging Richie back by the hair so he’s over Eddie’s thighs but not </span>
  <em>
    <span>quite</span>
  </em>
  <span> flush against his crotch, given that Eddie is absolutely developing a bit of a… situation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He threads the rope around Richie’s torso, making neat patterns large enough for Richie to make them out in all the red rope, then wraps the rope around Richie’s thighs and calves, binding him into a kneel. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie’s breathing is heavy, shuddering through him with every inhale.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Color?” Eddie asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie blinks a few times, gathering his thoughts. His eyes look vaguely foggy. “Green,” he manages, breathless.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good,” Eddie says, shivering with pleasure. “Oh, wow, you’re really getting into it, huh? You’re so responsive.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie’s chest heaves with a relieved gasp.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, you’re really good,” Eddie says. “Holy shit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That wasn’t part of the plan, but it has Richie melting against him with a small noise, so Eddie will take it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Eddie says. “Okay, let’s just sit here a while.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s not sure if he says it because he doesn’t want to overwhelm Richie when he’s seriously sliding into subspace or because he’s getting hopelessly hard and needs a second to will his boner away, but it’s nice to have Richie relax against him, seemingly enjoying the quiet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie swallows, carefully running his fingers across Richie’s sides and letting him breathe. It’s surprisingly easy to relax into it once his erection dies down, listening to the deep roll of Richie’s breath through him, resting against him. His hair smells like grapefruit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ready to come up?” Eddie asks eventually, feeling a little fuzzy himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mm?” Richie says, then, “Oh. Yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie sits up straight and starts undoing the rope. “Good?” he asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie starts laughing. “I’m gonna be honest with you, I had a little, uh, boner going there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie lets out a small bark of his own laughter. Richie’s joking makes it both easier and painfully harder to deal with the situation: easier because it’s so simple to keep a conversation going with him, and harder because it makes Eddie ache to kiss him. “Yeah, me too. It happens.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie smiles at him, shaking his head. “Fuck, man, how the fuck do you do that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> responsive,” Eddie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie smiles at him, tender in a way that threatens to be too much for Eddie. In his panic, he reaches out and sticks another gold star on Richie’s cheek.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Richie says. “Oh, fuck, my glasses. You made me forget my </span>
  <em>
    <span>glasses.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pride surges through Eddie as he gets Richie’s glasses for him, then goes to get Richie a glass of water and some chocolate.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie’s gotten his shirt back on by the time Eddie gets back. He rubs his hands over his face. “Man,” he says. “I don’t know if I want to run off on you here, but I drove here today and think if I don’t head out right this instant I’m gonna fall asleep while driving.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Long day?” Eddie asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, lots of sex scenes,” Richie says, winking at Eddie. “Guess Greta really wore me out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie rolls his eyes. Richie really shouldn’t leave so quickly, not when he has a tendency to drop. “I have a guest room,” he offers, and then regrets intensely. He doesn’t remember the last time someone stayed in his guest room, and he’s breaking the streak for </span>
  <em>
    <span>Richie.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “I’ve slept at your place before, it’s only fair.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie drains the glass of water and looks up at Eddie. “Yeah?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Eddie says. “Don’t worry about it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can I crash there right now?” Richie asks, popping the peanut butter cup into his mouth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure,” Eddie says. “Come on.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shows Richie to his guest room, complete with a nice, big bed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie flops back against it. “Oh, this is some good bougie shit,” he mumbles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie snorts. “If you want to shower, towels are under the sink in the bathroom, okay? It’s down the hall to the left.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mhmm,” Richie says. “Wake me up in an hour or so if I’m still asleep. I should text Bev and Stan.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll text Bev,” Eddie says. “You just get some sleep.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pulls the comforter out from under Richie’s body and throws it over him. Richie’s already snoring softly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heart pounding, Eddie pushes his hair out of his face and kisses his forehead. That much can’t hurt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shakes himself, ducking out of the room, then goes and furiously jerks off in the shower.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>eddie: i must be professional and control my feelings it is the only answer<br/>richie to bev and stan the minute eddie left their apartment: alright you got me out of the closet now get me INTO a date</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this is my favorite chapter and i'm very sorry but i have laughed out loud several times while writing it</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It takes Richie three tries to get himself into the kitchen. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bev stares at him, amused, over her coffee. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hadn’t realized she could see him pacing up and down the hallway to work up the nerve.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So,” he says. “When you and a guy get boners at the same time…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She spits her coffee into her cup. “Well, Richie, when a daddy and a daddy love each other very--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> up, Ringwald,” Richie says. “When </span>
  <em>
    <span>two guys get boners </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>sex </span>
  </em>
  <span>doesn’t happen but you sleep like a rock in his guest room and in the morning he makes you eggs and bacon and still nothing happens, is he just, uh, not interested, or what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know, maybe he’s being careful with you because he watched you vomit all over your hallway,” Bev says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Beverly, I could not be more obviously flirting with this man,” Richie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hm,” she says, giving him a wry look.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, god. Do </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> ask him out?” Richie asks, horrified at the thought.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re turning green,” Stan informs him as he enters the kitchen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did he like the jacket?” Bev asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He loved the jacket,” Richie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you agree our advice is solid,” Stan says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t like where this is going,” Richie says suspiciously.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ask him out,” Bev says. Stan nods along with her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You guys </span>
  <em>
    <span>suck,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Richie says, stealing half of Bev’s breakfast sandwich as he shrugs on his jacket. Bev shouts and flips him off as he goes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He eats on the way to work, trying to put Eddie out of his mind for now. He has one week of filming left and then, gods willing, he won’t have to see Connor until they’re doing press. That will be a relief, given that it’s been gruelingly awkward working with him lately.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Greta hasn’t been so bad. She doesn’t seem to mind the script changes so long as they don’t happen on her clock. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That does not, however, mean he wants to be shoved into a dressing room with her. “Look I know we had chemistry in that banana scene but--” Richie starts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>finish that sentence,” Greta says. “I know you made those edits to the script.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean, uh,” Richie says. “They’re not bad enough to murder over, are they?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Greta gives him a look like she genuinely thinks he’s the dumbest person on the planet. “Connor told the press he reached out to several BDSM professionals to try to give the script some more credibility. Alone. Went on a whole spiel about how realism and comedy go hand in hand.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie stares at her. “Oh, that shithead,” he hisses. “That’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> spiel. Except </span>
  <em>
    <span>worse.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah!” Greta says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fucker!” Richie whispers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anyway, I think you’re a fucking moron, Tozier, but I thought you should know,” Greta says, crossing her arms. “And if you want to say something - God help me - I will back you up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie gasps and points at her. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>like </span>
  </em>
  <span>me! Like, as a person!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She groans. “Don’t make me regret this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re friends!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She narrows her eyes. “Do you want me to fucking back you up or not?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nah,” Richie says. “One more week, and then we’ll never have to deal with him again. How about we just agree to troll the shit out of him on the press tour?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“God you’re such a fucking loser,” she says, storming out of the room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So is that a yes?” Richie calls after her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She flips him off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>**</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dude, okay, before we start, I have to tell you about the showbiz drama,” Richie says while he’s hanging up his jacket.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, the showbiz drama,” Eddie says. He’s wearing yoga pants again, which is truly trying. Richie wonders if, were he brave enough to look, he could see the outline of his dick. “Go on.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So my jackass director,” Richie says, “took my suggestions and then started telling the press he did his own research.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re shitting me,” Eddie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I’m not!” Richie says as Eddie takes his jacket off. “I found out from Greta, who - by the way - is mildly tolerant of me. Dare I say… fond.” He leans against the couch as Eddie hangs up the jacket.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That makes Eddie grin. “Oh yeah?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Richie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Happy for you,” Eddie says. “And your director’s a piece of shit. I knew it when you said he drives a Mercedes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right?” Richie says. “First he invites me over to talk ideas, then out of nowhere he kisses me and then--” He realizes what he’s saying as he says it, but it’s too late.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your </span>
  <em>
    <span>director </span>
  </em>
  <span>is the guy who kissed you?” Eddie says, with an inhuman fury. “After he invited you over for </span>
  <em>
    <span>business?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, yes,” Richie says. “But, listen, I don’t want it to be a </span>
  <em>
    <span>thing,</span>
  </em>
  <span> alright?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s--!” Eddie starts, then makes an angry noise and the chopping motion with both hands he does when he’s angry. Richie has never understood the expression </span>
  <em>
    <span>hopping mad</span>
  </em>
  <span> but here Eddie is, doing it. “That is so unprofessional, unethical and morally bankrupt! Jesus fucking Christ, if I ever get my hands on that guy, I will--!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Eddie, Eddie, Eds,” Richie says, holding his hands out to soothe him. “Stop. I’m really okay, alright? If anything, I’m glad it finally got me to be out to you and Bev and Stan because I was slowly digesting myself alive.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie glowers at him. He’s cute when he’s pissed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Seriously, I don’t want you to murder my director,” Richie says. “He’s just a dick and I wanted it out there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie groans. “Was that a pun?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, a little,” Richie admits. “But for real. It’s okay. I’m okay. And I mean that, not like all the other times I’ve said I was okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The corners of Eddie’s lips quirk up. “Alright, </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine.</span>
  </em>
  <span> You say you don’t want me to snap the man’s neck, I won’t. But know that I </span>
  <em>
    <span>would.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Duly noted,” Richie says. “What’s the plan for today?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie takes a deep breath. “Hang on, let me stow my rage.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie grins. “I’ll wait.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie puts his hands on his hips and breathes a few times. “Okay, I’m good. You good?” Richie nods eagerly, and Eddie shakes himself a little. “I wanted to try something a bit more intense today. You want strict or gentle dom today?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie thinks it over. He really does feel okay about the whole Connor thing. It feels a lot less dire now that he has the people closest to him firmly in his corner, but it does sting, and he just wants to unwind with Eddie. “Gentle,” he decides.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Eddie says. “Undress for me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie does, leaving his clothes on the arm of the couch.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good. Come on, you get to see my bedroom.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ooooh,” Richie says, playing it up so Eddie can’t see the way his heart genuinely skips a beat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s not how I usually say it,” Eddie says, opening the door for him, “but I thought you’d find it funny.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh I do,” Richie says. He also finds it </span>
  <em>
    <span>sweltering.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie shakes his head, chuckling. “I just have more equipment in my bedroom.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie slips inside and can’t help but laugh. Eddie’s bedroom has a very black and red color scheme. “Dude, this room is like if Sparta had survived to modern times and had a CEO.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It sets the mood,” Eddie says. “I wanted it to be simple.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why all the red?” Richie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I like red.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie takes it all in, and his eyes land on the reason why they’re here, right in the middle of the ceiling. “Ah,” he says. “The sex hook.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not a sex hook,” Eddie says, “because that would be illegal in the state of New York.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I promise not to tell New York, but that is a sex hook,” Richie whispers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie rolls his eyes. “You’re very funny.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” Richie says gleefully.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“On your knees,” Eddie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie happily sinks down and looks up at Eddie expectantly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Eddie says. “I know you were reluctant about gags, but how do you feel about rope in your mouth?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Was it something I said?” Richie teases.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie snorts, ruffling his hair. “It’s not to shut you up, I promise. You didn’t seem to mind me touching your mouth, and I think it might be an interesting sensation for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie shrugs. “I don’t really know?” It’s an earnest reaction.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie nods. He pulls out a drawer in the dresser behind him, which has a neat arrangement of rope, handcuffs and at least one riding crop. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” Richie says. “I didn’t realize you actually have the… like… Dom paraphernalia. I was starting to think that was a myth, really.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie smiles. “Like the crop? No, that’s not a myth. It’s also not something I think you’ll like.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you, uh,” Richie says, “prefer that sort of Domming?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not really,” Eddie says. “I like it, but I like being gentle with you just as much, if not more.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie thinks he might be blushing as Eddie unwraps a loop of red rope and gently wraps it around Richie’s face, leaning down to get it into his mouth. It’s not particularly thick, so it doesn’t gag Richie so much as it tempts him to wrap his tongue around it. “‘Ith ith a ‘eird lolli’op,” he says around the rope.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie laughs. “How’s it feel?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie really wants to curl his tongue around it, almost entranced by the feeling. “‘Ood,” he says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Eddie says, pulling the rope away. “Safewords?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Red is stop, yellow is slow, green is go,” Richie says, weirdly excited to see what happens next.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I won’t make it so tight you can’t talk or spit it out if necessary,” Eddie says. “But if it feels too difficult to get your safewords out, you can also say ow, shake your head or say my name and I’ll stop and take the rope out of your mouth, okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie nods.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And as we’re starting out, no rules about talking,” Eddie says. “I want to be sure you feel comfortable, so if you want to babble around that rope, feel free.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie grins, but he doesn’t end up saying anything, because Eddie is kneeling behind him and warm against his back and Richie goes a little breathless already.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie trails his hands down Richie’s arms, gently wrapping his fingers around Richie’s wrists to pull his arms back, crossing his forearms behind his back. He moves with a certain rhythm: sharp, firm movements against Richie’s arms until his arms are cocooned and snug.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Incoming,” Eddie says softly, dragging the rope up his shoulder blade. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie shudders. “Knock knock,” he says, glancing over his shoulder to see Eddie smile softly, even as he keeps his eyes on the rope he’s draping over Richie’s head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who’s there?” he asks. He looks calm. Richie feels calm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Interrupting cow,” Richie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie’s smile widens. “Interrupting cow…” He times it perfectly with Richie, like a little dance, slipping the rope into Richie’s mouth just as he says </span>
  <em>
    <span>who</span>
  </em>
  <span> and Richie says </span>
  <em>
    <span>moo.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie isn’t sure if it’s the rope or that little dance that makes him relax, a little bit like all his muscles have uncoiled. Eddie ties off the rope and catches him, raking his fingers through his hair and pulling him back against himself. “That was good,” he says. “I’m impressed you had such a good strategy for calming yourself, honestly.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s rolling Richie’s head back against his shoulder with his grip in Richie’s hair, and Richie closes his eyes, enjoying it. “‘Ank ‘oo,” he says, even though he actually doesn’t want to talk much. He just wants to show his appreciation for Eddie making sure he </span>
  <em>
    <span>can </span>
  </em>
  <span>speak.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie laughs softly and eases him down to the floor. “Can you give me a color?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gree’,” Richie manages, giggling at the way it slurs out around the rope.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie grins and brings the rope down to Richie’s legs and deftly begins weaving another cocoon around them, around his ankles and then up, bit by bit, pausing when he gets to the midthigh. He wraps his hands around Richie’s knees and drags him over a little, eyes on the hook.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie shivers all over at that, just a simple motion of Eddie pulling him along the floor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie seems to notice, because he smiles proudly at Richie as he bends down and wraps the rope around his waist, making several loops around his middle so the rope supports him evenly when Eddie tosses it over the hook and pulls, biceps straining. He has wonderful arms.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The effect is that Richie’s hips and legs rise and his upper body doesn’t, letting his head loll back against the floor. It’s a weirdly vulnerable position, and Richie moans, absently sucking the rope further into his mouth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Eddie asks. “Feel good?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“‘Es,” Richie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Color?” Eddie asks again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Green,” Richie manages.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie smiles and squats down beside his head, combing Richie’s hair out of his face with both hands. “Good boy,” he says. “I thought you might like this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie’s chest feels tight, but in a good way, a pleasurable feeling coiling in his gut.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m going to take your glasses now, is that okay?” Eddie asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“‘Es,” Richie mumbles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie pulls off his glasses, and the world goes blurry. Richie almost feels like he goes blurry with it. Eddie, as usual, tells him where he’s putting Richie’s glasses, but Richie honestly doesn’t care.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re going to do a little bit of sensation play,” Eddie says. “Color?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie mumbles another slurred and muffled green around the rope.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He can’t see Eddie anymore, but he feels pleased, petting at his hair and murmuring vague bits of praise. Something soft and feathery runs down Richie’s chest, over his nipples and up his throat. He gasps, arching into it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie’s other hand follows it up with something cold that makes Richie yelp and groan, but Eddie’s laughing softly and the freezing trail is once again being traced by the feathery thing, twice as intense now. Richie shudders, eyes rolling back and tongue curling around the rope as the soft touch slides behind his ear.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It repeats like that, soft, cold, sometimes Eddie’s rough hands, palms flat against his skin, all over his body, until Richie loses count and can’t follow the patterns anymore. His brain feels like a skipping record, just a hazy pool of sensation and shivers, interrupted only by Eddie asking for his color every so often.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His body goes loose, limp, not an ounce of tension. The only part of him with any urge to move is his tongue, which ends up toying with the rope the whole time, sucking on it and kneading it around with his tongue in a lazy little game.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t even notice when Eddie lets his legs down, only vaguely aware of Eddie sitting him up, getting his hands on the floor to prop himself up on instinct when his head slumps forward.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Richie,” Eddie’s saying, somewhere distant, working the rope out of his mouth. Richie almost wants to chase it, but the back of his mind realizes that Eddie’s actions are telling him not to, and he ends up sucking his bottom lip into his mouth instead. “Sweetheart, it’s time to come up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie’s head is spinning, thoughts murky.  “Mmm?” he mumbles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie slides his glasses onto his face and kneads his hands through Richie’s hair, trying to get him to meet his eyes. “Time to come back to the real world,” Eddie says. “Nice and easy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie swallows, trying to piece together a single coherent thought.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s it, nice and slow,” Eddie says. “Just look at me, can you do that sweetheart?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie does, staring into Eddie’s eyes. Eddie takes his face in his hands and runs his thumbs over his cheeks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You were very good for me today,” Eddie says. “Now just breathe, try to focus on your surroundings.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Ah, yes, the Spartan CEO room,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Richie thinks, though for some reason he doesn’t say it out loud.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There we go, you’re getting there,” Eddie says. “Come on, try to tease my design choices.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your dresser is shiny,” Richie slurs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie grins. “There he is,” he teases, gentle and patient. He keeps gently sitting Richie up straight when Richie lists to the side, supporting his head while Richie’s neck refuses to do so. “How are you feeling?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tingly,” Richie manages.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie hands him a glass of water. “Drink.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie drains the glass, feeling a little more lucid after. He still feels tingly, though. “Um,” he manages. “I swear I don’t have any drugs on me, officer.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie laughs. “You are actually a little high,” he says, dragging him up onto the bed. “Sometimes, when you get into the right headspace, the endorphin rush can be a bit like being drugged.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was rushed by dolphins?” Richie mumbles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A good try,” Eddie says, handing him some chocolate.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’ll be funny again in a second,” Richie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Again?” Eddie teases.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie laughs, slumping against Eddie a little. “Whew,” he says. “So, like, a homegrown acid trip, huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Something like that,” Eddie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’d you…?” Richie asks, gesturing vaguely. He still hasn’t placed what Eddie was touching him with, but he doesn’t know how to form sentences enough to ask.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fortunately, Eddie notices, smiling and reaching down to get a cup and a little brush thing. “Ice and a makeup brush,” he says. “Ice makes your skin more sensitive, the brush is soft and draws your attention.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Broke me with a makeup brush,” Richie says. “Okay.” He rubs his eyes. “Can I operate heavy machinery like this?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you drive yourself today?” Eddie asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mhmm,” Richie says. He still feels a little buzzed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe take a nap in the guest room first, then,” Eddie says, a hand on Richie’s back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mmm,” Richie says. He grins at Eddie. “Can I stay for dinner, too?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you want some leftover Chinese food, sure,” Eddie replies.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s kidding, but Richie will take it. Maybe it’s still the lingering tipsy feeling, but suddenly Richie feels very bold. “I mean, or I could cook for you, for once,” he says. “I make some mean latkes, Stan is very particular.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie blinks at him. “Uh,” he says. “You really don’t have to do that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I want to,” Richie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie hesitates for a moment, then nods. “I mean, okay. If you’d like it then… yeah, sure. I could run down to the grocery store in an hour or so. </span>
  <em>
    <span>If</span>
  </em>
  <span> you promise to call me if anything’s wrong.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Richie says. “I will.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Eddie says. “Cool.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie smiles at him. His head feels like it weighs a million pounds. “Okay, yes, nap time.” He sits there, watching his legs not move. “I’m going to the guest room. It’s happening. I’ll get there. Am I moving my legs? Tell me when I’m moving my legs.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie snorts and shoves him back onto the bed, dragging him up by the armpits until his head hits the pillows. “Just sleep here, stupid. I’ll wake you up when I get back from the store.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie salutes him, and falls fast asleep.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>**</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So when are we meeting Ben?” Stan asks Bev.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bev sighs. Richie thinks maybe she thought that the documentary they’re watching would be enough to distract Stan, but it’s about bears, not birds, so frankly, it was a naive hope. “I’m going to have to introduce him in five minute increments, aren’t I?” she says. “Like cats. First with the door closed so you can smell each other, then maybe I’ll let you make eye contact…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Patty raises a finger. “That’s good thinking.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m just saying,” Stan says, pushing her hand down. “You’ve been seeing this guy </span>
  <em>
    <span>how </span>
  </em>
  <span>long?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“None of your business.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stan narrows his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bug Richie!” Bev protests. “He’s had </span>
  <em>
    <span>two</span>
  </em>
  <span> sleepovers with Eddie!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie sighs dramatically. “It’s true. I slept in his bed and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>still</span>
  </em>
  <span> hasn’t made a move.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tragic,” Bev says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Should I invite him to my wrap party?” Richie asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stan gives him a dirty look, knowing he’s being distracted and yet unable to resist. “As a </span>
  <em>
    <span>date?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Richie says. “Kinda?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you going to </span>
  <em>
    <span>tell</span>
  </em>
  <span> him it’s a date?” Bev asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie watches them, mulling it over even as he gets out his phone. “No,” he says, and quickly texts, </span>
  <b>
    <em>hey if you think you can avoid getting into a fight with my director wanna come to the wrap party with me?</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why would he want to fight the director?” Patty asks innocently, peering over the shoulder. Richie can never tell how much of her innocence is genuine.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because it’s a bad movie,” Richie says smoothly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stan groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. He knows Richie too well. “Richard, did your director kiss you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe,” Richie mumbles. “Anyway…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Richie!” Bev says, punching him in the shoulder. “You’ve just been working with the guy who treated you like shit this whole time and you didn’t even come home and shittalk him with us?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Possibly,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Richie says. “But that’s not the point.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It absolutely is the point,” Stan says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ohohoho my god,” Patty says, laughing as she scrolls through her own phone. “He made that movie we watched when I had to go to my awful roommate’s graduation party and we got high? Remember?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait, for real?” Richie asks, scooting closer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes! American Symbol! That’s the one with the fucking eagle-man!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The </span>
  <em>
    <span>what,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Stan says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Patty makes a strangled squealing sound, sitting in Stan’s lap to show him pictures. “He’s, okay, get this, he is a sniper war hero who gets spliced with an eagle,” Patty says. “And so he gets ‘an eagle eye’, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stan lets out a long, pained groan.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh my god we were so high,” Richie says. “How do you even remember what this was about?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because, he’s…” She tries not to lose it laughing. “Oh my god, so there’s this scene, and we’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> fucking high and his eagle side kicks in or something and he’s like </span>
  <em>
    <span>guzzling </span>
  </em>
  <span>fish. But they’re, like, like these… oh my god.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They’re penis sized fish,” Richie says. “Like, that’s not just me saying that, it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>glaring.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s literally like five minutes of a big, burly soldier dude just,” she wheezes, “just deepthroating a bucket full of fish.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stan buries his face in her back, radiating secondhand embarrassment, making Richie giggle helplessly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This man was worried </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> would ruin his reputation?” Bev asks. “I mean…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Noooo, my god, it was so bad,” Patty says. “I just remembered there’s an extended scene where he’s growing feathers on his feet for some reason?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stan makes a pained noise.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie wheezes out a laugh. “Oh my god, yeah, we were high as balls and there’s just this random fucking foot shot!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We were </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> high,” Patty reiterates.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Give me, what else has he made?” Bev asks, taking the phone from Patty. “Holy shit these are all so bad. Richie, I think </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> reputation was the one at stake here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No wonder he stole my ideas,” Richie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He took credit for your suggestions too?” Stan blurts, head starting back up. “That’s it, we’re pirating all his movies and trashing them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yes,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Patty says, both of them running off to get Stan’s laptop.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“See, this is why you tell us about shitty directors who made you feel like crap, Trashmouth,” Bev says, nudging her shoulder against Richie’s.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, okay, I copy, Ringwald,” Richie sighs. “I don’t know, I guess I just didn’t want to feel pathetic about it. Like, people get rejected all the time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, and then they talk shit,” Bev says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie’s phone vibrates, and he pulls it out before he gets too emotional. </span>
  <b>
    <em>I can’t make any promises but I’ll do my best. Also this man made a movie about a sentient fire hydrant?</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie giggles. </span>
  <b>
    <em>really, he’s his own punishment.</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>IT’S A ROMANCE????</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“STAN,” Richie calls. “We have to start with the fire hydrant one!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>**</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie is still getting dressed when Richie shows up at his door, carefully folding the sleeves of his button-up over his elbow. It’s hotter than it has any right to be. “Nice tie,” Richie says, then presents his gift.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie loosens the leather tie around his neck a little, then takes the gift with a bewildered frown. “Where’d you find this?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>This</span>
  </em>
  <span> is a giant Reese’s peanut butter cup. “Oh, I was out with Patty getting food and saw it,” Richie says, “and I had to get it for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t know where giant Reese’s peanut butter cups fall on the “gifts to indicate that you’re on a date” scale, but he figures they can’t be too far below flowers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Eddie says, putting it in the fridge.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t thank me until you see my car,” Richie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie frowns at him, but follows him down to his car.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The look on his face as he takes in Richie’s 2005 Honda with the unfortunate stain across the back seat from when Bev dropped a mug of coffee is priceless.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie looks absolutely horrified. Richie grins and opens the door for him. Eddie gets in gingerly, wincing when Richie starts the car.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your check engine light is on,” Eddie informs him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, yeah, that,” Richie says, kicking the dash until it goes off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie’s face is absolutely golden right now. “If you call this piece-of-shit a car in front of me, </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever</span>
  </em>
  <span> again,” he whispers, “I will kill you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie giggles, very proud of himself. “Okie dokie.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s pretty sure Eddie spends the entire drive to the bar where they’re having the wrap party too busy listening for rattling in Richie’s engine to talk, but even so, Richie enjoys his company. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wants to ask Eddie if this is a date, but he’s not sure how. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They end up having to park half a block down, which gives Richie time to breathe some fresh air and walk with Eddie. “Hey, so, thanks for coming,” he says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure,” Eddie says. “You want me to bring up that I’m a Dom or do you just want me to look vaguely authoritative?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie frowns. “Eds, I didn’t ask you to come to lend me credibility,” he says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie raises a brow at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just wanted you to be here,” Richie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” Eddie says. “Well. I can do that too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie’s legs feel like jelly as he tries to cobble together the right words to say what he really meant by inviting Eddie. “Um,” he starts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Never thought I’d say this, but I’m actually glad you’re here,” Greta calls. She’s smoking by the door, leaning against the wall. “This place is stuffy as fuck and Connor brought a date who’s clearly a hired escort.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie has never wanted to strangle someone so much. “How is a bar and grill stuffy?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They managed,” Greta says, looking Eddie up and down. “I thought you were a closet case.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I…” Richie says, because no way is he admitting his feelings via </span>
  <em>
    <span>Greta,</span>
  </em>
  <span> but at the same time…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Actually,” Eddie says, “I just helped Richie with research.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you’re the reason all our shoots took twice as long as necessary,” Greta says. “Congrats.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You must be Richie’s costar,” Eddie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Unfortunately,” Greta says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie snorts, waiting for her to put out her cigarette before following her inside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The place </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> stuffy, in a weird, discordant way, with artsy menus on the walls and odd mood lighting beaming out of big stone walls. Richie sighs and waves at some people from costuming who’ve crowded into the corner.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>However, Greta seems to have drifted away, so Richie tries to take this moment to tug Eddie closer. “Eddie, you know, I kinda thought tonight was, like…” he starts. Eddie cocks his head at him, listening earnestly for a blissful second before Greta drifts back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jackass incoming, 10 o’clock,” she mutters.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie’s head whips around, and Richie tries to send Greta his most blistering glare.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And now there’s Connor to think about too, with a tall blonde lady on his shoulder. Greta gives her decolletage an appreciative look. Richie has to admit even his eyes are drawn to it, even though he’s currently boxed in by his frustrating costar, his director who kissed him, and the guy who he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>trying</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be on a date with.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor takes a long moment to take him and Eddie in, awkwardly clearing his throat. “Ah,” he says. “So you’re…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>My date, if any of you would fuck off long enough to let me tell him that,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Richie thinks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Eddie Kaspbrak,” Eddie says, glaring his little heart out as he extends his hand. “Professional Dom.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I see,” Connor says, eyes flickering up at Richie as if to say, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really, Tozier, this is how you’re trying to make your point?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Richie wants to clamber onto a table and scream how deeply this is not about Connor. “Connor Bowers. I’m the director.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, I know,” Eddie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, uh,” Richie says, skittering around Eddie to try to get his attention. “Could we, maybe…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you hungry?” Connor asks. “Why don’t we find a table, I’d love to get to know our ‘source’.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Funny, I thought you already </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> your source,” Eddie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie tries to subtly shake his head at Eddie, but the only one who notices is Greta, who seems to think this is hilarious. Richie flips her off behind his back as he’s somehow ushered to a table.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know, uh,” Richie says, “I don’t think we need to…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, the movie industry is all about storytelling, even for the press,” Connor says. “I’m sure Richie knows I appreciate his input.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I sure do,” Richie says. “Anyway…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, you have a funny way of showing your appreciation,” Eddie bites.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thankfully, a waiter arrives at this moment, giving Richie the opportunity to loudly blurt, “So what’s the house specialty?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, our signature dish is our crispy fried tempura prawns,” the waiter starts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m allergic to shellfish,” Eddie growls from where he’s started some kind of very angry staring contest with Connor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Burgers!” Richie blurts. “You got burgers at a bar and grill, yeah?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, our signature burger is the mediterrenean burger, feta, onions, cucumber slices…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Two of those,” Eddie says, thankfully breaking his staring contest with Connor to order. Richie nods, sagging with relief that Eddie’s at least taking a second’s break from his warpath as the others order too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It doesn’t last long, though, because after the waiter leaves, Connor looks at Eddie with a challenging smirk and asks, “So, you have a Dom business?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie puffs himself up. “Well, I Dom a few days a week in the evenings, and otherwise I’m a mechanic.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah,” Connor says. “So I guess your day job doesn’t pay very well.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie watches in vaguely amused horror as Eddie narrows his eyes. “It pays just fine. I work on luxury cars. I Dom mainly for enjoyment, not as a cash grab.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor gives him a cool glare. “I guess it is the kind of job you’d get a lot of pleasure out of.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I’m glad you’ve been paying attention to the research that was shoved under your nose by someone else,” Eddie replies sarcastically.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie clears his throat and looks at the escort. “Sorry, what was your name again?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She seems surprised and a little entertained to even be acknowledged. “Jen.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jen,” Richie says. “Tell us about yourself, Jen. Where are you from? What’s your favorite color? Did you know the Teletubbies are six feet tall?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Everyone’s staring at him, but on the bright side, this is clearly the most fun Jen has ever had on a job. “I did not,” she says. “And… uh… I’m from Chicago and my favorite color is purple.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah,” Richie says, nodding seriously. “Tinky Winky.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The silence is deafening. No one seems to know how to follow up that response, which was technically the goal.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So do you follow the Patriots at all?” Greta asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I do, actually,” Jen says. Richie thinks that’s about sports, if only from her clear shock at being asked about sports at an escort job.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He relaxes and watches them spiral into - he thinks - football talk. He tugs on Eddie’s sleeve. “Can we talk after dinner?” he whispers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course,” Eddie murmurs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cool,” Richie says, trying to keep himself together. He cannot wait to tell Bev about all this.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They manage to keep things civil until their food arrives, at which point Eddie says, “So, what exactly is the </span>
  <em>
    <span>story</span>
  </em>
  <span> you’re telling the press?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie awkwardly takes a large bite of his burger while he thinks of something to say to distract them again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look,” Connor says sharply.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie’s mouth tingles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Actually, it </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> tingles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He waves at the nearest waiter, currently giving the camera crew refills. He gets a quick </span>
  <em>
    <span>hold-on-a-moment</span>
  </em>
  <span> finger, so he sits up straighter, tucking one foot under himself so he can lean closer to the waiter. “‘Scuse me,” he calls. Connor makes a frustrated noise and glares at him for the distraction. “Does this have pineapple in it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, yes, we use it to tenderize the meat,” the waiter calls back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie laughs despite himself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Richie Tozier’s first ever date, ladies and gentlemen!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor rolls his eyes. “Are you serious right now?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” Richie says. “Can someone call me an ambulance?”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>*camera pans to me climbing out the window* oh hey guys. what's. what's shakin'. see you next monday for "Eddie Has A Time" time</p>
<p>
  <a href="https://twitter.com/dgalerab/status/1264172062710644736">reference for the bondage in this chapter</a>
</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hi everyone, i know you're all already aware of what's going on in the united states, but if you enjoy this fic, please consider donating to any of the <a href="https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/#donate">orgs here</a> as thanks</p><p> warnings for mild homophobic slurs (just the one, really) and eddie having. a very long panic attack. very long. also richie doesn't technically bring up daddy kink but we all know he's thinking it. (edit: forgot to mention, amputee georgie who is very cavalier about his missing arm)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Eddie has invested an absurd amount of his life into thinking about anaphylactic shock. He’s read about it, thought about it, memorized every statistic, every procedure. He used to own an epipen he didn’t need until he’d finally, painfully left it somewhere between moves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now that it’s relevant, all that information seems to scatter, and his brain is blank for the longest second he’s ever experienced in his life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you for real?” Greta manages.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah,” Richie says, </span>
  <em>
    <span>laughing.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He’s fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>laughing.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “My throat is one </span>
  <em>
    <span>hundred</span>
  </em>
  <span> percent closing up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something clatters against the table as Jen scrambles for her phone and Connor and Greta both start talking at once - </span>
  <em>
    <span>you’re allergic to pineapple? Who the fuck is allergic to pineapple? Is it serious? Are you serious? </span>
  </em>
  <span>- and Richie tries to loosen his collar and pushes back his chair so he can put his elbows on his knees to draw in heavy, strained breaths.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Epipen,” Eddie manages through a sluggish mouth. His brain supplies a confused sort of panic, that ingrained response of </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh god you’re going into anaphylactic shock,</span>
  </em>
  <span> because his brain is dumb and stubborn and didn’t prepare for someone </span>
  <em>
    <span>else</span>
  </em>
  <span> to go into anaphylatic shock. It’s always been about him and whether or not </span>
  <em>
    <span>he’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> sick and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>never prepared for someone else to be.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Do you not have an epipen?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘S in my car,” Richie wheezes. “Glove compartment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jesus, it’s so fast. It’s so fucking fast, Richie already can’t breathe and Eddie can’t move for a second because the last time he saw someone go into anaphylactic shock he was too young to understand why he was told not to look and now he does and what if by the time he gets to look again he’s gone? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Again.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’d you park?” Greta asks, and that gets Eddie moving, bolting out the door, down the street, to Richie’s car. He’s always been a fast runner, but this might be the fastest he’s ever been.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unfortunately, it also means he’s at the car before he realizes he didn’t take Richie’s keys. There’s plenty of ways to get into a locked car, but they all take too long, so Eddie backs up, takes a running leap, and kicks his way through the window.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulls open the glove compartment, grabs the epipen, and races back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie is not dead yet when he arrives, which Eddie knows from the horrible wheezing and gasping coming out of his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit, help me,” Eddie says, skittering back as Connor hauls Richie out of his chair to sit him down on the floor, legs out.Eddie flips the epipen open and stabs it into Richie’s thigh. Apparently there was some use to learning how to use an epipen despite not having any deadly allergies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie gasps, dragging in a huge gulp of air, and Eddie collapses to sit beside him, holding his hand tight as they both struggle to breathe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ambulance arrives a few minutes later, and Richie gives them all a bleary thumbs up as he’s loaded into it.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>In, out, in, out,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Eddie thinks to himself. All of his body is buzzing. He paces back and forth, trying to keep his composure with his heart beating through his entire body. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You don’t have asthma, allergies aren’t contagious, you’re not allergic to anything, you didn’t even eat anything, it’s not fucking ABOUT you...</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Connor says, trying to keep the mood light. “He certainly does have a talent for getting people’s attention.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie swallows down his anger. It’s not like Richie hadn’t been trying to joke the whole thing off too. Richie has been trying to talk them down all evening, now that Eddie thinks about it, and Connor probably means it as an olive branch. “Look, you stole his fucking ideas and then got a good kick in when you were done with it,” he says, trying to keep his tone even. Just for once in his life he’s going to try to be even keel to begin with. “At least try to not be a dick about him nearly dying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor sighs. “I’m the director. It looks better if I changed the script myself. But if it makes you feel any better, in the next round of interviews I’ll talk up your fairy boytoy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Eddie says, and then punches him in the face, hard enough to send him sprawling. So much for even keel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jen covers her mouth to hide a startled laugh, and Greta doesn’t react at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor groans, holding his face. “You broke my fucking nose!” he shouts. Eddie hopes he’s right. “You better have a damn good lawyer, because--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Greta meets Eddie’s eyes, then sighs, getting out a pack of cigarettes. “You should watch your step, Connor,” she says, putting the cigarette between her lips and lighting it. “That really was a nasty fall.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor looks up at her, angry, but defeated. “Fuck you too,” he hisses, clambering to his feet to limp off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie takes a slow breath. Punching Connor did nothing to make him feel less like he put his hand in a light socket. He nods at Greta, then gets his phone out with shaking hands and calls Bill. “Hey, don’t panic but I need you to drive me to the hospital.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>**</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The car ride over with Bill is extremely tense. “Do you…?” Bill asks, when Eddie gets into his car, picking a bit of stray glass off his pants leg.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope,” Eddie says. “Nope, I don’t want to talk about it.” He worries the minute he does, he's going to explode. He's going to snap in half. He'll open his mouth and spew a fountain of black bile into the world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Bill says, and calmly drives him to the hospital.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bev and Stan are already there by the time they get there. Bill gives Bev an odd look, clearly confused to see her, but he stays quiet and seems content to wait for the information to trickle down to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The moment Bev sees Eddie, she’s dragging him aside. “Hey,” she says, “Are you okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It seems absurd to Eddie that she’s the only one who knows. The only person here who knows how much Eddie’s life has been overshadowed by this exact thing, only to watch it happen to the first person he’s had feelings for since Myra.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(Ever,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he corrects, because the only feelings he had for Myra were escapism, and Richie’s… Jesus Christ, Richie’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>dying</span>
  </em>
  <span> somewhere behind the doors of the emergency room, and there’s doctors trying to stop it but they can’t always and Eddie knows this, knows it all too fucking well and…)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would have checked the menu,” Eddie stammers. “I would have read it, if he’d told me.” Instead he'd </span>
  <em>
    <span>interrupted the damn waiter.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“People tend to assume he’s joking,” Stan says from the side, voice even. Eddie wants to fight him over it, but before he can, he notices Stan stopping his writing every couple of seconds because his hands are shaking. “They’ll try to catch him in the lie, so he stopped mentioning it in college.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That doesn’t help. That doesn’t help at all, because now Eddie is being swallowed whole by the thought of people secretly poisoning Richie for a laugh enough times to make a pattern. He puts his hands on his thighs and tries to breathe without screaming. He's shaking. He's quite literally seeing red.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” Bill says. “Okay, I get it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie wants to shake him and scream at him that no, he doesn’t, which is ridiculous. He hasn’t told Bill everything about his dad, but Bill’s known him since they were six. Bill </span>
  <em>
    <span>does </span>
  </em>
  <span>get it, Eddie’s just perched over the world’s biggest spiral and ready to make it everyone’s goddamn problem.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stan looks up, finally taking in Bill. “I’m sorry, you are?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bill,” Bill says, extending his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stan stares at it. “You’re short,” he says finally.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill stares at him, absolutely flummoxed. Eddie is going to owe him something nice whenever he stops feeling like he swallowed a supernova. “I,” Bill says. “Y-Yes I am?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t expect for you to be short,” Stan says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m s-sorry?” Bill says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His stutter gets worse when he’s caught off guard, and Eddie can clearly tell that Stan was not informed about the stutter either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a tragedy Richie isn’t seeing this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thinking of Richie makes Eddie feel a lot like his intestines are trying to turn themselves inside out and frogmarch out of his throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bev notices, leaning in. “Hey, you going to make it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhmm!” Eddie says, high pitched and absolutely false. “Yes, yeah, I’m good. I’m great. I’m fucking hearing colors but I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>good.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want to sit down?” Bev suggests.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No I do not!” Eddie shouts. “Fuck! What the fuck!” The waiting room gets quieter to stare at Eddie, and he has to shove a fist into his mouth and pace to keep from screaming. And even so, he still feels like his actual meltdown is still impending. He gets the sinking feeling that it is going to be a real fucking doozy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He fuels that suspicion into pacing like his life depends on it until, what seems like an eternity later, a nurse finally comes out to tell them Richie is allowed a visitor. Bev shoves Eddie forward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Eddie manages.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go,” Bev says. “I promise he wants to see you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stan doesn’t argue, so Eddie blankly stumbles down the hall after the nurse to Richie’s room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie looks like crap, sweaty and wrung out, an oxygen meter on his finger and an IV in his arm. He smiles when he sees Eddie, albeit weakly. “Okay, be honest with me,” Richie jokes. “How badly did you fuck up my car?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The meltdown finally hits, like some kind of coiled creature has finally sprung out of his chest into his tongue. “Your car? Your </span>
  <em>
    <span>car?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Eddie spits. “Why the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> was your epipen even </span>
  <em>
    <span>in</span>
  </em>
  <span> your piece of shit Honda, fuckhead? You </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> you had an allergy and you didn’t keep it on you? In a </span>
  <em>
    <span>restaurant?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you have any idea how fast anaphylactic shock can kill someone?” Eddie shouts. He thinks he’s sobbing. “Under fifteen minutes! You could have died before I even got back with your epipen! Why wouldn’t you read the menu?! Why wouldn’t you fucking tell me?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eds,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie is definitely sobbing. “This shit killed my dad, Richie! It fucking killed my dad before I even had time to understand what was happening and I…” And he’s weeping too hard to continue, absolutely hysterical in the middle of a hospital room with Richie staring at him like he has no idea what to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything but fucking cry his heart out, and he’s not a crier. He gets angry or proactive or stressed, he hardly ever just </span>
  <em>
    <span>cries. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Now it feels like he’s making up for every single time he hasn’t cried in his life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie awkwardly holds his arms out. “Hey, c’mere, c’mon,” he says, waving Eddie into his embrace until Eddie hobbles over and collapses into it. “It’s okay, man, it’s not your fault.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry I wasn’t paying attention,” Eddie sobs. “I didn’t know and I didn’t… I’m not even allergic to shellfish! It’s just a </span>
  <em>
    <span>thing</span>
  </em>
  <span> and I should have…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, it’s okay,” Richie says. “I’m sorry, I just… like, come on, what kinda lunatic would put pineapple into a mediterrenean burger?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie would normally laugh, but instead he just turns his face into Richie’s chest and wails.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I agree, it is fucking crazy,” Richie says, and Eddie weirdly appreciates Richie acting like he’s a coherent person who can form sentences right now. “That’s rich people shit. Class warfare, I tell you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That does make Eddie laugh, though it’s an oddly feral sound mixed with his continued muffled sobbing. Richie wraps his arms around him. He’s clearly still a little feeble, but his chest is broad and his arms are long, which makes up for the lack of firmness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The real tragedy is that I can’t annoy people with liking Hawaiian pizza, you know,” Richie says. “Though I guess I could go all in and start putting other fruit on pizza. Ha! Go bananas, get it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie laughs harder - painfully and between sobs - into Richie’s shoulder. “Why do you make it so hard not to laugh at you?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie giggles with him, letting him pull back a little, hiccuping as he tries to rein in his tears. Their noses are all but touching, unbearably close as Richie beams at him. “It’s a talent, Eds!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t call me that,” Eddie says, if only to buy some time to wipe the tears and snot from his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, okay Mr. Grumpy Spaghetti,” Richie teases.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks so incredibly exhausted, but he still smiles at Eddie with the same energy as always.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie kisses him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s not really aware he’s doing it until it happens, but his lips are pressed against Richie’s. Richie freezes, startled, his hand absently hovering towards Eddie’s face - maybe to rest it on his cheek, maybe to push him away - and his bottom lip almost experimentally nudges up against Eddie’s lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie pulls away, breathless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um,” Richie says. “What, um…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie’s stomach twists. This was absolutely not the time or place to drop this on Richie. He opens his mouth to say as much, but he’s interrupted by a knock on the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bev sticks her head in. “Are you guys decent?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie takes a moment to gather his wits - Eddie still hasn’t - and grins. “Morally? No. But we are wearing pants.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll take it,” Bev says, dragging Stan and Bill in after her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god you brought Bill,” Richie whispers, delighted, then continues in his regular tone. “Oh, please tell me it was as awkward as I think it was.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stan’s first words were, and I quote, ‘You’re short,’” Bev says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I still don’t f-fully know what’s going on,” Bill admits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god it’s everything I dreamed,” Richie whispers. “Oh my god, Stan, you bastard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stan glowers at him, and the kiss seems to fade out of relevance to everyone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone but Eddie, who feels like he's been set on fire, turned inside out and then set on fire again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>**</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” Bill says, while he’s driving Eddie home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m staying at your place,” Eddie mutters, slumped against the window.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I know,” Bill replies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Feel like I’m gonna try to eat a light bulb or something,” Eddie mumbles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That would be a n-new one,” Bill says. “But don’t worry, Mike already folded out the couch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Eddie says. His chest feels tight. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re not having an asthma attack, you’re not going into anaphylactic shock, you’re not having a heart attack…</span>
  </em>
  <span> he tells himself on a loop. “Do you have any rocky road?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I always keep a bit of rocky road on reserve for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gonna need more than a little,” Eddie mutters. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. Georgie’s on it,” Bill says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did I ever tell you my dad died of a shellfish allergy?” Eddie asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“N-Not exactly,” Bill says. “But when Myra got engaged to Steve and you got blackout drunk, you were eating an entire tray of popcorn sh-shrimp and then told me n-not to worry about your epipen, so I... suspected.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” Eddie says. “Yeah, okay. Sorry about that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” Bill says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m a hassle,” Eddie says. “Aren’t I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Bill says. “N-Not really.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie squints at him. "What the fuck is wrong with you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing!” Bill insists. “You’re fine. When you have your lows, you have them a lot and they’re very weird, but you’re also the first person there every time I need anyone. You’re fun and kind and sometimes you make life interesting. S-So?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eddie, you broke your arm falling out of your window to sneak out to see me after Georgie’s accident,” Bill says,“and still showed up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, and I couldn’t stop laughing,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like I say,” Bill says, pulling into his parking space. “You make life interesting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie smiles. “Yeah, okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They sit there for a while in silence. “I have so much to tell you about Richie,” Eddie says, finally.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I got that t-too,” Bill says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell Georgie I want cookie-dough ice cream too,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>**</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill and Mike let him inhale all the ice cream they had in their freezer without asking, which he appreciates.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Georgie arrives a few minutes later. “So I hear things got out of h--” he starts, handing over two tubs of ice cream.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do </span>
  <em>
    <span>n-not</span>
  </em>
  <span> take your arm off,” Bill snaps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eddie thinks it’s funny!” Georgie protests.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We just spent all d-day in the hospital, do </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> take your arm off!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Georgie sighs and pulls up a chair next to Eddie. “Well, Bill’s a drag, but just so you know, I’m always ready to lose an arm for you,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie nods appreciatively, dragging over the cookie-dough ice cream. “You and Richie would get along,” he says, and then starts crying again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike gently takes the ice cream scooper out of his hand, serves him a bowl, and puts the ice cream away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” he says after he gets back. “What exactly is going on with Richie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, he nearly died today,” Eddie sobs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but who among us hasn’t had a near death experience,” Georgie says. “Tell us the exciting stuff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill glares at him. “He n-nearly died the same way Eddie’s dad died,” he hisses under his breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Georgie says. "Okay, that sucks, but…"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was mad at this guy who kissed him and so I was distracted and they offered a different food but it was shellfish and I said I’m allergic and that’s why he rushed to order something else but I’m not even allergic I just say that because my dad was allergic and my mom had this thing and </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>have this thing and then he was choking all of a sudden and I broke a car window,” Eddie chokes out. “I mean it probably improved that car but I broke it and I feel bad. Also Richie is gay and that’s so much worse than falling for a straight guy, when he was straight I didn’t have to try so hard and go on so many jogs, I think my </span>
  <em>
    <span>neighbors </span>
  </em>
  <span>are worried about me and...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe, uh,” Mike says, urgently patting Eddie’s shoulders to get him to shut up, “start from the beginning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie’s lungs notice that he hasn’t been breathing for possibly a minute and try to rectify the situation all at once.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike tries very hard not to mention the sloppy wheeze Eddie lets out. He puts his hands up next to Eddie’s face like blinders. “You met Richie at Bill’s wrap party?” he prompts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie takes a deep breath and starts again. This time, he tries to go in order, but for the most part, it’s only Mike’s patience that keeps him from rambling into weird directions. Mike has a talent for interviews and research, but Eddie is pretty sure even he is being stretched thin right now, because he has to stop Eddie every other sentence to lead him back to his train of thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he’s finally got it all on the table, they’re all staring at him. Georgie looks, frankly, impressed, Bill looks absolutely appalled and Mike looks both sympathetic and on the verge of bursting into giggles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eddie, you w-were on a date,” Bill says, finally.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I wasn’t,” Eddie says. “I was there to prove a point to that fucking slime man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Except Richie was trying very hard to </span>
  <em>
    <span>stop</span>
  </em>
  <span> you from making any kind of point,” Mike points out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So?” Eddie says. “He was uncomfortable with all the attention.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, he tried to stop you because it was a date,” Georgie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie shakes his head. “No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eddie,” Mike says softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It wasn’t a date,” Eddie says, heart rate spiking. They all give him awkward, disbelieving looks. “It </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking</span>
  </em>
  <span> wasn’t!” he snaps, because if it was a date and he didn’t even notice, then he’s even more responsible than he was before. "I didn’t just sit there and ignore my </span>
  <em>
    <span>date </span>
  </em>
  <span>while he was fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>dying!"</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, okay,” Mike says gently. “Maybe it wasn’t a date, but he </span>
  <em>
    <span>does </span>
  </em>
  <span>like you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, as his Dom,” Eddie says, trying to breathe. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You don’t have asthma, you don’t have asthma, you’re NOT going into anaphylactic shock...</span>
  </em>
  <span> “And… and </span>
  <em>
    <span>friend.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“N-No,” Bill says, apologetic. “Definitely not like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, also like that,” Georgie says. “But, you know, also, like…” He makes a suggestive face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Eddie says, humming to himself in a frantic attempt to calm down. “Nope.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eddie, I get the date thing, but why don’t you want to admit he likes you?” Mike asks, gentle as ever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I have an obligation!” Eddie says. “I mean, I… I have an agreement with him, and I can’t… I can’t just…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eddie,” Mike says. “I think maybe you’re projecting a little.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Projecting what?” Eddie snaps. “I’m not projecting anything!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Th-This Dom business means a lot to you,” Bill says. “But it doesn’t mean the same thing to Richie. I think m-maybe he just wants to be cared for.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, well I’m clearly shit at it outside of scenes!” Eddie shouts. “I can’t even make sure he doesn’t fucking</span>
  <em>
    <span> die</span>
  </em>
  <span> on our first fucking date!” He hurriedly adds, “Which wasn’t a fucking date!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eddie,” Mike says. “You didn’t know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was jealous, okay?” Eddie says. “I wasn’t paying attention because that idiot kissed him </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> hurt him and I couldn’t think of anything else!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill sighs. “Eddie. I know this s-sucks to hear, but the same thing could have happened even if you hadn’t been distracted. You c-can’t stop this sort of thing from ever happening, and it’ll dr-drive you crazy to try.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, god, that’s my mom,” Eddie says, burying his face in his hands. “I’m being my mom.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> being your mom,” Mike says, which is not very comforting, given that he’s wrong. Mike doesn’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>know </span>
  </em>
  <span>his mom, Eddie wants to snap, but Bill’s nodding along too, leaving Eddie to rub at his forehead and try to decide if they’re delusional or he is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Given that he’s having a mental breakdown, though, it might be more likely that he is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You gotta break the cycle, champ,” Georgie whispers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is wrong with you?” Bill asks, tired.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Georgie grins at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” Eddie says. Georgie is right. “Fuck, god, shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Richie does like you,” Mike says softly. “You don’t have to be perfect to acknowledge that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just,” Eddie says, “I need to… I don’t know, think. I have to be… I mean, I’ve </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> felt like this about anyone and I can’t… I can’t destroy this guy!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think you’re going to,” Bill says softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie buries his face in his hands, hiccuping as he gulps down deep breaths, perched on the precipice of either a panic attack or another round of sobbing or both.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey, look at it this way," Georgie says. "This was literally the worst case scenario, right?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes it fucking was," Eddie manages.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So future dates can only get better from here!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie takes a deep breath until he can’t inhale any further. He lets it out, until his chest pangs, demanding air, at which point he lets instinct take back over. Like turning his lungs off and back on again. He rubs his hands over his face. “I need to talk about something else.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I watched a millionaire fall into the ocean,” Georgie offers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie sniffles. “Yeah, that works. Tell me all about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill sighs, exchanging looks with Mike, who grins wide and tilts his head as if to say, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’d like to hear it. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Bill shakes his head, but leans back against Mike to let Georgie at it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I was stewarding, as I do,” Georgie says, “and I’m getting drinks for this guy and…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>**</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>i’m back, baybeeeee, </em>
  </b>
  <span>Richie texts him after a few days, along with a selfie of himself beside his front door, Stan dragging him inside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie has no idea what to answer. He hasn't texted Richie since the kiss. He's just laid in bed watching soaps and Googling allergic reactions every time he found something that looked like a rash on his body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stares at his phone, haunted, until he gets another text from Richie. </span>
  <b>
    <em>should we talk about The Incident</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie snorts, biting at his lip nervously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No matter what Bill and Mike </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> Georgie think, Eddie can’t bring himself to assume. He has no idea what Richie is thinking about the kiss or what to say in return.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t want to pressure Richie with anything that happened during a meltdown, but he can’t exactly lie about it either. The cat’s out of the bag and Eddie has no idea what is best for Richie now. </span>
  <b>
    <em>I would prefer not to,</em>
  </b>
  <span> he texts finally. Stupid. </span>
  <b>
    <em>Yet. That was a weird night and I don’t want to say anything hasty or stupid.</em>
  </b>
</p><p><span>Richie doesn’t answer for way too long. Eddie winces. He doesn’t want it to sound like a rejection either, not with Richie’s insecurities, </span><em><span>especially</span></em><span> if Richie maybe likes him. He scrambles to grab his phone again, nearly dropping it, and adds,</span><b><em> But I still want to see you and I owe you a new car window, so if it’s okay can we still meet?</em></b> <span>he adds.</span></p><p>
  <b>
    <em>sure,</em>
  </b>
  <span> Richie texts back. </span>
  <b>
    <em>where and when?</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>At the restaurant. I’ll drive your car back to my garage. Whenever you want.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>tonight?</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Sure.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie groans and drops his phone onto his chest. What the hell is he even going to say? He has to reassure Richie without making the pressure even worse. Would it have been so hard to simply </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> kiss his client?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He puts his phone away and slumps back into bed to stare at the ceiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>**</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie greets him at the curb next to his car when Eddie gets out of the Uber he’d taken. He grins as he points at the destruction of his car. “Man, you really went to town on it, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope you didn’t have any valuables in there,” Eddie says. “I’ll be honest, I forgot about it in all the chaos.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie clears his throat at that, giving him an awkward little smile. “I guess I’ll take that as a compliment. Me over </span>
  <em>
    <span>a</span>
  </em>
  <span> car.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you not to call this junk a car,” Eddie says, brushing some of the glass out of the driver’s seat. He quickly adds, “But I guess there are </span>
  <em>
    <span>real </span>
  </em>
  <span>cars I’d value less than you, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie grins at that, looking almost bashful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie steels himself. “It’s not your fault,” he says. “My… The reason I don’t want to talk about it yet. It’s not any kind of remark on you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Richie says. "I kind of figured already.” He takes a deep breath and admits, “With some help from Bev and Stan. And Patty. And the grocer at our deli after I spent a lot of time on an extended metaphor about rye bread?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Eddie breathes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie smiles, looking a little more confident already. “I’ll be honest, it helps that you look like shit."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. I had… I uh…” Eddie says, scrubbing a hand over his stubble. “I kind of…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Freaked out about kissing me on my deathbed,” Richie says, nodding sagely. “Seems fair.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to fuck things up with you, is all,” Eddie says in a rush. “Because you… you matter to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie can’t tell if he means it or not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shall we?” Richie says, making a sweeping gesture at the car.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Eddie says. “Take the backseat, it’s less likely to have glass on it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aye aye,” Richie says, tossing Eddie his keys.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” Eddie says, pulling out onto the road. “What’d you want to talk about after dinner that night?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie smiles to himself, shaking his head. “Uh, raincheck that for the kiss convo, boss,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie tries to hold his eyes in the rearview mirror. “Why?” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thinks, </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck, was it a date?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘S just awkward,” Richie says shrugging. “I’d like to be on solid ground before we get to it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean…” Eddie says, guilt rushing through him, “I don’t want to make you feel like you’re not on solid ground.” He certainly doesn’t feel like </span>
  <em>
    <span>he’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>on solid ground, but that doesn’t mean Richie has to feel the same.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, that’s not what…” Richie starts, then takes a deep breath. “Look, it’s cool, you kissed me during a breakdown while I was reminding you of your dead dad, that… that’s not an easy topic. But I don’t think you need anything </span>
  <em>
    <span>else</span>
  </em>
  <span> to make things… uh… awkward.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean,” Eddie says, awkwardly. “You don’t… remind me of my dad…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope, you don’t get to weasel your way out of this daddy issue thing,” Richie says, grinning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie groans. “Oh, fuck you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your dad wasn’t in the shitty comedy business, was he?” Richie asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, he sold furniture,” Eddie sighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie bursts out laughing. “Oh my god,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie glares at him in the rearview mirror. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did a whole series of used furniture store commercials in college when I was struggling to book comedy gigs,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> you,” Eddie growls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god, maybe you saw them and absorbed them into your subconscious,” Richie says. “Aw, that’s so sweet. I’m your father now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Could you shut the fuck up for two seconds? And my dad had a thick Polish accent, you jackass.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, son…” Richie says, in what he must think is a Polish accent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hate you,” Eddie says, but he’s laughing. He feels better just being near Richie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulls into the garage and ushers Richie out so he can get the vacuum.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow,” Richie says, hovering behind him as he cleans out all of the broken glass. “Sullying your craftsmanship for my car. You </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> like me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie pauses, switching off the vacuum. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie looks nervous as Eddie meets his eyes, but he doesn’t back down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look,” Eddie says. “I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you kiss me because you have feelings for me?” Richie blurts, like a dam has just burst inside him. “Like, you can still think about what you wanna do about it but I just wanna know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t… want you to feel like…” Eddie says slowly. “I want to… Look, I need to feel in control. I didn’t have any control over my life for any of my childhood and now I just… I </span>
  <em>
    <span>need</span>
  </em>
  <span> it. My brain is on fire all the time and Domming gives me a way to feel fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>calm</span>
  </em>
  <span> and when I found it my friends - well, Bill - supported me in doing it and you clearly have the same need for vulnerability and I don’t want to take that from you when I know how much this sort of thing matters to people and I know you’re not comfortable finding a different Dom, so, I can put this all aside and be there for you like Bill was for me and my feelings in no way mean that I can't--"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus, you’re gonna run out of air. It’s a yes or no question,” Richie interjects. He eyes Eddie with a soft look. "Please?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, okay?” Eddie snaps. “But I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie kisses him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a lot better to kiss him when he doesn’t taste like hospital, though he’s stooped and his hands are shoved in his pockets and he’s exuding nervous energy. Eddie kisses him back without fully deciding to, drawn in purely on instinct.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A honk interrupts them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie pulls back and grins. “Well, that’s my ride.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Eddie manages.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Patty’s on her way home from work, I can’t keep her,” Richie says, backing away with the biggest shit-eating grin Eddie’s ever seen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie raises his hands incredulously.“You’re just going to…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh I’m sorry, am I leaving you hanging?” Richie teases, halfway out of the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not even…?” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Raincheck, remember?” Richie calls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m gonna </span>
  <em>
    <span>kill</span>
  </em>
  <span> you!” Eddie shouts after him as Richie ducks out of the garage. “Fucking…” He groans into the side of the car. He takes a few angry breaths, then starts laughing.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>yes there are 8 more chapters of this fic (roughly) and yes it IS still tagged slow burn but here's the thing: because there are two halves to their relationship (bdsm and romantic) there are in fact... TWO slow burns :) see you next week!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>it's amazing that hope and i posted this early today bc the amount that we got distracted is truly incredible. i forgot the title of the fic when trying to open this tab</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“How’d it go?” Bev asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are we celebrating, commiserating or arming ourselves?” Stan asks, pretending like he’s nonchalantly reading the newspaper, like he hasn’t been eagerly awaiting Richie’s arrival the whole time he was gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He is </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> pissed at me,” Richie manages, shaking with excitement. He’s lucky Patty came to pick him up, because she’d taken his drumming on the dashboard to burn off his nervous energy in stride. She’d only interrupted him to buckle his seatbelt for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His phone vibrates. He checks it to find that Eddie has texted him, </span>
  <b>
    <em>Honestly FUCK you</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you’re happy about that?” Bev asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie nods, letting out a gleeful little giggle. Eddie’s next text reads, </span>
  <b>
    <em>Are you not going to talk to me until I fix your piece of shit car because there’s a lot to fix here</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you have a date?” Stan asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, but I will when I’m done tormenting him,” Richie says. He quickly texts back, </span>
  <b>
    <em>sure we’ll talk! the weather is very nice today, isn’t it? also, i’m binging westworld and i know you have a thing for cowboys so i’ll send you my notes :)</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>“Richie,” Stan sighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No no no, listen,” Richie says. “I finally got him to spit out that he likes me, I kissed him, and then I left. Pattycakes, your timing was </span>
  <em>
    <span>impeccable.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I aim to please,” she says. “Does this mean you’ll buy me a cookie next time we go for coffee?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Patty, come on, you know they’re never as good as they look. I’ll buy you a cupcake.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sighs. “Alright, fine. But imagine if the cookies were as good as they looked.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, now you’re revenge ghosting him?” Stan asks. “Before the first date, even?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He finds it funny,” Richie says, waving her off. Eddie texts, </span>
  <b>
    <em>You’re unbearable, </em>
  </b>
  <span>then, </span>
  <b>
    <em>I hate to ruin your gloating but I appreciate the time to think. </em>
  </b>
  <span>Richie smiles, showing the text to everyone. “See!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said he was pissed,” Stan points out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but in an amused way!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, of course, silly me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll ask him out properly when I pick up my car,” Richie says, he texts Eddie back, </span>
  <b>
    <em>don’t worry i’m still gloating :)))</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you’ll </span>
  <em>
    <span>tell him</span>
  </em>
  <span> it’s a date this time?” Bev presses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And maybe don’t do any food-based dates juuuust yet,” Patty adds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, yes,” Richie says. “I’ve got it covered, guys.” He’s suddenly struck by a surge of giddiness. “He </span>
  <em>
    <span>likes</span>
  </em>
  <span> me, guys, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>said</span>
  </em>
  <span> so!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Happy for you,” Stan says without looking up, like he’s above all this childishness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stanley, darling, your newspaper is upside down,” Patty informs him gently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>**</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s so hard not to immediately ask Eddie out. Richie has to bounce around explaining his nefarious plans to Bev, Stan and Patty almost once an hour. They’re probably ready to murder him, but not as much as Eddie is. He’s broken down and tried to ask about the situation five times and each time he’s gotten unhelpful non-answers. Richie </span>
  <em>
    <span>loves</span>
  </em>
  <span> it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie ghosted him for days - while he was hospitalized and bored, no less - so Richie is allowed to fuck with him a little bit. (More importantly, he guesses Eddie would rather talk about this in person, even if he is impatient.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At long last, Richie drags it out until he arrives at the garage. His car is sitting in the front with a new window and a fresh coat of paint, and probably a functioning check engine light.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a </span>
  <em>
    <span>dick,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Eddie says. “And your car did </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> deserve this amount of attention.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, you left me hanging first,” Richie says, unable to stop grinning ear to ear. Imagining Eddie furiously fixing every little thing in his car with all the venom he could muster fills Richie with a shivery warmth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie groans. “I thought you’d…!” He rubs a hand over his face then fixes Richie with a manic glare. “Look, I'm just going to come right out and say it, okay? I can’t date you and Dom for you at once. Not right away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Richie says, giddy at the word </span>
  <em>
    <span>date.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know you like subbing,” Eddie presses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like you,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie stumbles over that part. “It’s just,” he says, “I like powerplay in a controlled, specific setting, but I don’t want it leaking over into a relationship.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s cool,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I worry about being manipulative, alright?” Eddie continues, hedging on outrage. “My mom was manipulative and I don’t want to slide into that sort of behavior, so I just need to keep the powerplay and the romance separate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds responsible. Where do you wanna go for our first date?” Richie says. He knows he’s going to have to talk to Eddie in detail about subbing in their relationship eventually, but first he </span>
  <em>
    <span>has</span>
  </em>
  <span> to drive Eddie up a wall. He just </span>
  <em>
    <span>has</span>
  </em>
  <span> to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, once we’re in a groove and I have a better sense of the boundaries we need in that kind of relationship,” Eddie adds forcefully, “then we can… you know, get back into it. Sexually, even. If you want. But I have no idea how long that’s going to take, and in the meantime, I can’t Dom for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds good,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie glares at him. “I know you’re fucking with me, I’m just not fully sure how.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie laughs. “Just seems like you really prepped for some firm opposition,” he admits. “But honestly I like </span>
  <em>
    <span>you, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and we can work the rest of it out as we go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This isn’t…” Eddie says, slowly, “I’m not…? You don’t feel like you owe me anything, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie raises a brow. “Owe you anything how?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just don’t want you to feel like the only way I’m going to ultimately Dom for you is if you date me,” Eddie says. “Or that I won’t be there for you as a friend if you don’t… date me. I want you to feel safe in being vulnerable with me without feeling like you have to earn it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eddie, I’ve liked you since I met you,” Richie admits. “I really, really want to date you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Since you…?!” Eddie snaps, dropping the rag in his hands to dance in place with unadulterated rage. “This </span>
  <em>
    <span>whole</span>
  </em>
  <span> time, you…?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie grins. “Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie runs his hands furiously through his hair, leaving it in disarray and giving him a feral look. “We could have…! This whole time…!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing has ever been more flattering than watching Eddie Kaspbrak lose his mind over not being able to date him a few months earlier. Richie watches in the utmost bliss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie squeezes his eyes shut and takes a shuddering breath, composing himself with mediocre efficiency. He opens his eyes back up and peers up at Richie ruefully. “I’ve never… dated anyone,” he admits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie stares at him. “You were nearly </span>
  <em>
    <span>married</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, well, Myra went to the same church group as my mom and she started showing up at our house all the time and then high school was ending and she was planning college together and it just… seemed… like buying a ring was what I was… supposed to do,” Eddie mumbles. Richie has never seen him look so shy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot</span>
  </em>
  <span> to unpack there,” Richie says, slowly, begging himself not to laugh. “But, uh, you know, I’ve never dated anyone either. Obviously.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, good,” Eddie says. “So neither of us has any clue what’s going on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie grins. “I mean,” he says, “that much is obvious.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie joins him in leaning against the car, taking on an oddly haunted look. Richie lets him chew through whatever is on his mind. He’s still experiencing a profound euphoria at Eddie’s eagerness to date him, he can be quiet and wait for once. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Was it a date?” Eddie asks, sounding almost fragile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh,” Richie says, leaning closer to him. “Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry I didn’t… I wasn’t paying attention, and…” Eddie says, choked up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie puts an arm around him. “Hey, it’s cool,” he says. “I should have told you about the allergy. It’s just that for some reason when you’re a jokester, people don’t take you seriously. Plus, like, who’s allergic to pineapple? At one point I went out to a coffee shop with my study group during finals season in college, and after a hot second I notice they’re all secretly giggling and my mouth is tingling… the look on their faces when I whipped out my epipen, though? Priceless.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus,” Eddie breathes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anyway, I missed my finals,” Richie says. “And decided maybe if I don’t tell people, I’m actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>less</span>
  </em>
  <span> likely to die.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stan mentioned that, yes,” Eddie says, breathing slowly through his nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I trust you,” Richie says. “I should have said something. If I’d known about your dad…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie nods. “Yeah, I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But… look, I should have told you it was a date from the get-go,” Richie says. “I was just… Like, I’d been flirting so hard and you were </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> picking up on it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were flirting?” Eddie blurts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah!” Richie says. “All that shit about being sexually charged and the bedroom and the… I don’t know, splits?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re just </span>
  <em>
    <span>like that,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Eddie protests.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Richie complains. “But to be fair I’ve liked you since the moment I met you, so…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Unbelievable,” Eddie mutters. “I have spent </span>
  <em>
    <span>weeks</span>
  </em>
  <span> tearing myself up about liking you when you clearly needed me to be a responsible Dom and you've been… What? Throwing yourself at me?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie giggles. “Oh, man,” he says. “Oh, man, okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We are so stupid,” Eddie says, laughing with him. “Holy fuck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Richie says, slumping against Eddie’s shoulder to laugh about it. Eddie’s own laughter rolls through him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Drive-in movie?” Eddie asks, wheezing with laughter. “Would you like to go to a drive-in movie with me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cars </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> movies,” Richie says. “Very you. I would love to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie takes a deep breath. “I’m going to miss Domming you,” he admits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s only for now,” Richie says. “I’m sure you’ll get your groove back in no time! And until then you can Dom other people.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie cups his face in his hand and pulls him down. “None of them are as good as you,” he murmurs, kissing Richie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie feels fireworks cascading through his entire body, down to his toes. He feels light and shuddery when Eddie pulls away. “Well, I’m sure you’ll live,” he manages.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, to be fair, I think I’m going to enjoy dating you too,” Eddie teases.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you think?” Richie teases.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe,” Eddie says. He smiles. “Friday? I’ll pick you up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Richie says. “Cool.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie smiles. “Cool.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>**</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The afterglow lasts until Richie pulls up in front of his apartment, at which point it becomes a blaring siren in his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wobbles up the stairs and stumbles into Bev’s room. “What the hell do I wear to a date?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She blinks at him, then breaks out in a grin. “You got him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Shut up and tell me what to wear,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! Celebrate! Tell us the gossip!” She gets up from her desk, shoves past him and shouts, “STAN! Richie’s got a boyfriend!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whoa whoa whoa,” Richie says. “Does it skip straight to boyfriend? Don’t you have to go on a few dates and then…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not when it’s someone who looks at you the way Eddie does,” Bev says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Finally,” Stan says, joining them. “How are we celebrating?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“By telling me what to </span>
  <em>
    <span>wear,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Richie says. “Also, who pays on a gay date? Do we go Dutch? My mom always said it’s not a date unless you pay for the girl, but there’s no girl, so what’s the protocol here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eddie’s going to pay,” Stan says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you know?” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I’ve seen his car,” Stan says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think he has more than one car,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely</span>
  </em>
  <span> going to pay,” Stan says. “In fact, I’d be willing to bet he’ll have a </span>
  <em>
    <span>thing</span>
  </em>
  <span> for paying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Richie says, watching as Bev rifles through his closet, tossing shirts onto the bed as she does.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m buying you new jeans,” Bev says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie wrinkles his nose. “What’s wrong with my jeans?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, you asked me what to wear,” Bev says. “I’m going to do a good job.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie sulks at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think we have champagne,” Stan says. “I’ll get a bottle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pretty sure that’s sparkling raspberry juice,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So we’ll mix some hard liquor into it,” Stan says. “Close enough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your low standards show up at the weirdest times, Staniel,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stan, if you were a man driven mad by Richie and his choice fashion, which of these shirts would you like better?” Bev asks, holding up two garish floral shirts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The first one,” Stan says. “It’s awful and Eddie will love it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gee, thanks,” Richie says, then, “You really think so?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Stan says. “I’m getting booze.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get me the bee mug,” Richie says, resigning himself to a few hours of this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>**</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Eddie shows on Friday, Richie has to frantically wave and kick Stan, Bev and Patty into the kitchen as he gets the door, then again once Eddie is inside. Eddie looks amazing, wearing a dark purple blazer over a red v-neck, flowery boots riding up over his tight, tight black pants.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want anything?” Richie asks. “We have a few minutes before we have to leave, I could, uh, get you a soda or, like, a sandwich or…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie puts his hands on Richie’s hips to steady him while he takes a look. Richie’s brain peters out under the double whammy of Eddie’s dark eyes roving over him and his thumbs in Richie’s belt loops. “You like it?” Richie asks hopefully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The shirt he’s wearing is his own, but where he’d probably wear it open over a shirt, Bev put him in it alone, the top two buttons undone, tucked into his new pair of high waisted jeans. It’s a loud, blue and pink pattern. Richie has combed his hair and shaved, too, so he’s not sure what to make of Eddie’s furrowed brows right now. If he’s ever looked good in his life, it’s at this moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like it,” Eddie says, finally meeting his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Richie breathes. “Cool.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Juice?” Patty all but shouts from the kitchen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, yeah,” Eddie says, startled. “Thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patty ushers him over to get him ice, giving Richie a moment to lean in to talk to Bev. “What was that reaction?” he mutters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s consumed with lust,” Bev whispers back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Richie hisses. “Are you sure?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stan nods to back Bev up. Richie has follow-up questions, but Eddie’s already cruising back to stand with them. Richie straightens up, trying to look innocent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie puts a hand in his back pocket, and Richie’s mind goes blank.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You ready to go?” Eddie asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie looks to Bev and Stan for help. “Uh-huh?” he squeaks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nice seeing you, Eddie,” Bev says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have fun,” Stan says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie smiles at them and steers Richie away while Richie tries to communicate, </span>
  <em>
    <span>He STARTED with his hand in my back pocket?!</span>
  </em>
  <span> to them with his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie helps him with his jacket, then opens the door for him. He doesn’t put his hand back in Richie’s pocket, but he does walk him down the street with an oddly gentlemanly aura. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s brought a convertible. A shiny, red convertible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh,” Richie says. Is he convertible material? “So are we picking up a hot blonde on the way?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie raises a brow. “What are you talking about now?” he asks, like he’s fond of being tired of Richie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know,” Richie manages, watching Eddie open the car door for him. “These cars… they come with hot blondes. You’re driving along the freeway in California, wind in your hair, they’re wearing a bikini, they scream and throw their hands up as you speed up, you’re wearing aviators…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie snorts, shoving him into the passenger seat. He lingers with his hands on Richie’s shoulders. “Richie, it’s October in New York, you’d freeze in a bikini,” Eddie says, tucking a lock of hair behind Richie’s ear. “But…” He leans over Richie’s lap to open the glove compartment and pull out a pair of Aviators and slide them onto his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiles at Richie, seeming bafflingly charmed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, damn, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m</span>
  </em>
  <span> the hot blonde,” Richie manages, dizzy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re the hot blonde,” Eddie says, patting Richie’s thigh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” Richie says. “If I’d known, I could have worn my bikini under my clothes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie laughs as he rounds the car and gets into the driver’s seat. “Maybe next time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Next time,” Richie mumbles to himself as Eddie starts the car and glides into the street. He likes the implicit guarantee of next time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re silent for a while. Richie feels ridiculous. Eddie is easy to talk to, but he can’t think of anything to say. He’s not as frightened as he thought he’d be on his first real date with a guy - especially since their trial date was the pineapple fiasco, which feels like it must have knocked out most of their bad luck for future dates - but his mind is like a black hole at the moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, I’m nervous too,” Eddie says finally.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Richie asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cool,” Richie says. He groans internally.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You, uh, really do look good,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Richie says. “You too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie clears his throat and nods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Awkward silence settles over them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie starts laughing. “Look at us, making up for our lost pre-teen experiences.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This does feel like a twelve year old date, doesn’t it?” Eddie asks, grinning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, not you </span>
  <em>
    <span>putting your hand in my back pocket,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Richie says. “Are you going to charge me for that, or was it a pro bono butt grab?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Was it bad?” Eddie asks, surprisingly worried. “I didn’t know what to do with my hands and I wanted to, uh, sort of… set the mood. Maybe?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie throws his head back and laughs. “Oh, what mood was that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know!” Eddie snaps. “Reassuring? Sexy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Commanding?” Richie suggests.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, so maybe it’s not that easy for me to… uh… not Dom,” Eddie says, blushing. “Especially when I’m nervous.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie laughs harder. “I mean. A little bit of commanding can’t hurt, right?” He grins at Eddie, raising the pitch of his voice a few octaves to add, “‘Specially if I’m your Barbie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie’s head snaps around for a full second before he remembers to keep his eyes on the road, swerving slightly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Never</span>
  </em>
  <span> do that with your voice again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Disturbing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Appalling.” He stares ahead of himself, looking hilariously horrified. “Like you were possessed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, I’ve got a talent, I have to show it off!” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The noise that came out of you was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> your voice, and I </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> want to know where it came from,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie giggles, shifting in his seat to watch Eddie. Eddie notices, smiling to himself when he does. “How far is the drive-in?” he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About thirty minutes,” Eddie says, “but it’s worth it. It’s a nice place.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Weeeeeell, I think I can spend thirty minutes with you,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, good, thanks,” Eddie says, taking a deep breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eds,” Richie says softly to get his attention. Eddie acknowledges him with a hum. “I’m glad I’m retroactively twelve with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie doesn’t take his eyes off the road, but the way he smiles says everything. “Yeah, me too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>**</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rest of the drive isn’t bad. Eddie swings between being silent or rambling, including a full five minutes about UNO rules. Richie times it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie’s oddly fascinated. It’s increasingly obvious that Eddie is genuinely, intensely nervous. More nervous than </span>
  <em>
    <span>Richie,</span>
  </em>
  <span> which is surprising. Richie had thought he’d be a mess, but he feels fine. Great, actually. How badly can he be doing if Eddie Kaspbrak is on a date with him, after all?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least, that's how he feels until Eddie pulls up in the lot and finally gives Richie his full attention. It finally hits him full force.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Eddie Kaspbrak</span>
  </em>
  <span> is on a date with </span>
  <em>
    <span>him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re on a date,” Richie blurts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie snorts. “You only now noticed?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You looked at me and it fully registered and I wasn't ready,” Richie admits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie breaks out into a grin. “Yeah, we’re on a date.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I never asked what movie we’re here to see,” Richie realizes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, a garbage horror movie,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah? Are you going to put your arm around me if I get scared?” Richie teases.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Eddie says, hackles rising, brows furrowing intensely. “No.”</span>
</p><p><span>Richie beams at him. He’s</span><em><span> so fucking</span></em> <em><span>nervous.</span></em><span> It makes Richie slightly less nervous. That, or he’s funneling his nerves into making fun of Eddie’s nerves. “No?”</span></p><p>
  <span>“No,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do I have to do the Barbie voice again?” Richie threatens.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do </span>
  <em>
    <span>not,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Eddie grits out. “I swear to god, that voice is from </span>
  <em>
    <span>hell</span>
  </em>
  <span> and it’s gonna break out if you keep giving it time on this earth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Psh, that’s… what…? What’s that? Oh no, I can’t stop it!” He slumps over Eddie dramatically. “Argh! Barbie! She’s coming! She’s here!” He does the impression for the last bit, and Eddie hurriedly crams his hands over Richie’s mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie laughs into his palms, throwing his legs over the door of the convertible so he can lay in Eddie’s lap properly, eyes twinkling up at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I, uh,” Eddie says, pulling his hands away from Richie’s mouth to play with a lock of hair falling into Richie’s eyes, “I don’t know how to do this sort of thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What sort of thing?” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dates,” Eddie says miserably. “It’s not like Domming. Or sex.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, yeah, I think the staff here might be a little annoyed if we were to start taking our clothes off,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, it’s easier to ask… things,” Eddie says, “without ruining the flow. I think… romance is… supposed to be less… spoken.” He gets an odd glint in his eyes and throws his hands up in fury. “And that’s why people make assumptions and cross lines and that’s how date rape happens!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie sits up. “Eddie, I have to ask, did you just imply that date rape happens because people don’t use BDSM romantically?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie puffs out a small noise of complaint, looking a little teary eyed. “Yeah, unfortunately, I do think I just did that.” He kneads at his forehead. “Please pretend I didn’t.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie chuckles at him. Eddie glowers at him, a vicious look in his eyes. Richie feels unbearably charmed by how linked Eddie’s anger and nerves are. “Would you like to ask me if I want your arm around me?” he asks sweetly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t talk down to me,” Eddie mutters at him, sulking in the most adorable way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie nearly breaks his knee in an attempt to lay down flat onto his stomach in the car so he can rest his chin in his hands and blink up at Eddie. “Sorry. Would you like to ask me if…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie shoves him, barely managing to hide a laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, you can ask about things if you want,” Richie says. “You can do whatever you want. Not like I have standards.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want you to have standards,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m kidding,” Richie admits. “All my standards are from movies I used to watch as a kid, y’know? And I’d watch ‘em all miserable, feeling like I’d never see myself in them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie strokes Richie’s hair absently, listening closely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or, y’know, if I was particularly cruel to myself that day, I’d imagine myself being the girl,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t want to be…” Eddie starts, and Richie can see him wincing at the gender role approach to this discussion, “... the girl?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, I don’t want to…” Richie says, “uh, have to be a girl for someone to… be like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like what?” Eddie says, like he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>desperate</span>
  </em>
  <span> for a discussion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Richie says, sitting up. “I’m going to bite the bullet here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Eddie asks, wide-eyed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t like asking for things,” Richie says, “but </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> clearly need a cheatsheet for what I’m looking for here, so I will </span>
  <em>
    <span>graciously</span>
  </em>
  <span> help you out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh,” Eddie says, and the blush on his cheeks makes up for the mortification Richie is about to expose himself to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> want you to put your arm around me, and I’m gonna cram my dumb legs into the glove compartment to lean into you because it makes me feel…” He gestures wildly, trying to invoke the way it made him feel to see big, strong, protective men being reserved for small girls with soft voice with their ponytails tied up in ribbon, “some kinda way, and I want to be kissed without being asked and then I want it to escalate however you want because I don’t want to overthink what I’m doing, I want to stop second guessing and just be </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted.</span>
  </em>
  <span> And I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He means to keep going, but Eddie’s pinky finger curls around his, and when Richie glances down at him, he’s looking back like Richie hung the stars, and fizzes out every single thought in his brain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can put your knees on the dash and your feet on the door,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Richie says, and does it, with some difficulty, resting his head on Eddie’s chest while Eddie puts his arm around his shoulders. “Ha.” He starts to say something, but Eddie shushes him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like to watch the previews,” Eddie murmurs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie nods and settles, glancing up at Eddie as much as he can without feeling weird about it. He’s really on a date. A date with </span>
  <em>
    <span>Eddie Kaspbrak, </span>
  </em>
  <span>who is funny and strong and soft and so fucking weird. His heart is going to burst out of his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie finally looks down at him. “Sorry, what were you going to say?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you don’t mind missing the movie, just the previews?” Richie asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The previews are the best part of going to the movies,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie giggles. “You’re so weird,” he says. “And I was just going to fill the silence for the hell of it.” He waves Eddie away, but Eddie’s still staring at him. It’s a gentle stare, even with Eddie’s thick, furrowed brows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do what?” Richie asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Want you,” Eddie says. “I want you a lot, and that’s what freaks me out. I’m used to… love - allegedly - being suffocating and I don’t… I’m scared of doing that to you. I’m scared if I start laying out a </span>
  <em>
    <span>game plan</span>
  </em>
  <span> on our dates it’s going to spiral into trying to squash every possibility of failure until I squash you with it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Has your mom ever, </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever</span>
  </em>
  <span> asked you what you wanted?” Richie asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie’s jaw clenches and he blinks away tears. “Jesus you’re so fucking good at that,” he breathes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie cocks his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Eddie says. “She never did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then there you go,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie nods tightly, pulling Richie in closer and kissing his forehead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Was your mom also, like, super buff, because…” Richie asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please don’t compliment my biceps via my mom,” Eddie replies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie laughs, snuggling up closer to Eddie and turning his attention back to the movie just as the first spray of blood hits the camera. “Oh, gnarly,” he says, feeling Eddie’s chuckle vibrating against his back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>**</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie drives him back home, then walks him up to his apartment. He clears his throat at the door. “So, uh, I don’t know how obvious it was that I was kind of a mess earlier today…” he starts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I timed you talking about UNO,” Richie replies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gives him an apprehensive look. “How long was it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only five minutes,” Richie says. “Also, you made a case for literally any rule.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like winning,” Eddie snaps, then softens and adds, “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For timing you or for pointing out that you’re a cheat?” Richie asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For knowing what to say,” Eddie says. “To make me less nervous.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie puts his hands on the sides of Richie’s neck, thumbs resting on his jaw and pulls him down to kiss him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie takes a moment too long to pull his hands out of his pockets and even longer to gently brush the tips of his fingers against Eddie’s arms, dancing around the idea of letting them rest there instead of hovering just over Eddie’s blazer. It doesn’t matter, though, because Eddie is still kissing him, one hand dropping to the small of Richie’s back to pull him in closer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie’s knees feel weak as Eddie’s tongue flicks inside his mouth. He tries not to moan, pulling back to gasp for air instead. “Want to come inside?” he asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie raises a brow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For,” Richie says, realizing what he’s said, “you know. A </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> hypoallergenic dinner.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And dessert?” Eddie asks, sultry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie heart skips several beats. “I mean,” he says, “my roommates are home. And I don’t think exhibitionism is really a starter kink.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie chuckles. “I’m kidding.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Richie breathes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll have time for that later,” Eddie promises.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh!” Richie says. “Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d love to stay for dinner,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Richie says, and kisses him for a moment before jerking back. “Oh, wait! Are we boyfriends?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie blinks at him. “Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Holy shit,” Richie says. “Okay. I wasn’t sure, uh, how many dates it takes to be a boyfriend, but apparently it’s one and a half. But I guess since I have a fifty percent chance of being hospitalized on dates, it’s a good idea to fast track it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie sighs. “Please don’t joke about that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, okay,” Richie says. He stays quiet for a moment and takes in the strong crease between his brows and the way his thumb rubs at Richie’s back. He smiles, heart warm. “I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie stutters, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Oh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, is that, like, a two-point-eight-ninth date thing?” Richie says hurriedly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, nono,” Eddie says. “You just startled me! I… I mean, me too?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Was that a question?” Richie asks, caught somewhere between amusement and panic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” Eddie says. “I just! I don’t…! Want to… jinx it or anything…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jinx it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes!” Eddie says. “Because we… I mean, you’re not </span>
  <em>
    <span>supposed</span>
  </em>
  <span> to say it so fast, I guess, but I mean it! You’re my best friend and the way you make me feel is… amazing, really, and…” He huffs a dramatic sigh. “I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie looks up at the ceiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing?” Eddie asks, exhausted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Checking for anvils,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dinner better be really good,” Eddie growls at him, then pulls him down for another kiss.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>y'all: ooh now they can do romantic stuff during bdsm<br/>me, having already hinted at the double slow burn: :)))))))))))</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>if i give eddie my own inability to coherently talk about my control issues is that good writing or bad</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>There’s something fascinating about watching Richie cook. It’s not the first time he’s used Eddie’s kitchen, but it is the first time Eddie can fully appreciate it without worry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even as he chatters on, his hands keep moving, deft and easy. There’s a quiet focus to it, a gentle concentration that shines through all of Richie’s coarser mannerisms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gets up from where he’s been watching and listening to Richie and wraps his arms around him from behind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Richie says, slumping back against him. “Hi.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie squeezes him. “Hi.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie’s back is warm and soft and easy to nuzzle into.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He chuckles at Eddie and keeps cooking, only extricating himself from Eddie when he’s draining the pasta. He gets them both bowls and loads them full, handing Eddie his. “Alley-oop,” he declares.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie snorts. “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re welcome,” Richie replies. “What are we watching over dinner today?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was thinking </span>
  <em>
    <span>Loony Tunes: Back In Action</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I love you,” Richie says, grinning wide. He waits for Eddie to sit on the couch first so he can tangle himself into Eddie’s space, watching closely as Eddie tastes his food.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a wonderful chicken alfredo. Richie has a talent for cooking, that’s for sure. “It’s good,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie beams at him. “You’re my excuse to make all my unkosher recipes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie raises a brow at him. “Sounds risky.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry,” Richie says, wriggling his foot under Eddie’s ass. “When I make you my </span>
  <em>
    <span>delicious</span>
  </em>
  <span> gumbo I’ll hold your hand all the way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Asshole,” Eddie mutters, resting his hand on Richie’s knee.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie grins at him. “‘S really good gumbo, I promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie wrinkles his nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie giggles at him. “Don’t look at me like that, I’m kidding.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> going to hold my hand?” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not gonna force-feed you gumbo,” Richie replies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, what a relief.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Start the movie you paranoid little shrimp,” Richie says, then gasps. “Wait, you can’t start eating shellfish, it’d be cannibalism!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie kicks him in the thigh, sending him into an adorable spat of laughter. “Shithead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Squirt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>average,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Eddie snaps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhmm,” Richie says, eyes alight with mischief.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie grumbles at him under his breath and starts the movie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Watching comedies with Richie is fun. He has so much commentary to give, so much back and forth with the characters it’s almost like he’s in the movie. Eddie finishes his food quickly and sits back to watch Richie jabber on with Daffy Duck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Richie’s finally finished his own meal through all the talking, Eddie takes hold of his wrist and tugs him into Eddie’s arms. They have to shuffle around a bit for Richie to fit into Eddie’s embrace, but once they’ve found a groove, Richie melts against him like he was born to slot into Eddie’s arms like this, sighing softly against his chest. Eddie plays with his hair sleepily, and Richie’s yammering dies off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Had Eddie known this was where they’d end up, he probably would have thought twice about starting their scenes with TV watching and gentle petting. He wants so badly to do more, to take Richie to his bedroom and wrap him firmly in soft rope until he’s putty in Eddie’s hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes a deep breath to calm himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not time for that, yet. They’re back at square one, feeling their way into this relationship thing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was so hard to think of Richie as a client when he was one and now it seems all too risky that Eddie might think of him as a client when he isn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The movie ends, and Eddie turns off the TV.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie glances up, bleary. “What’s up, doc?” he asks, then laughs at his own joke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie huffs a laugh - at him, not with him - and eases Richie up to kiss him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie squirms his way up Eddie’s chest to press further into it. Eddie rewards his efforts by kissing him harder, rolling them over so he’s perched over Richie. He kisses him firmly, tilting his head back with the force of his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lets his hands roam over Richie’s body - long, broad, pleasantly squishy. He’s pleasing to touch, and Eddie lets his hands slide under Richie’s shirt and explore there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie’s hands stay still on Eddie’s back, like a polite request for Eddie to stay close, to keep touching.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie skims his hands down the slope of Richie’s soft belly, the tips of his fingers dancing under Richie’s belt and over the waistband of his boxers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie’s hand moves lightning fast, grabbing Eddie’s wrist in panic. He pulls away to look at Eddie, wide-eyed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Eddie says softly. “No?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie goes from alarmed to sheepish. “Uh… no?” He sounds downright confused at his own decision.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Eddie says, quickly extinguishing the small ruffle of disappointment in his chest. “But the kissing was okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just I’ve never…” Richie says in a rush. “Um.” Eddie cocks his head, letting Richie finish. Richie simply stares at him, eyes the size of dinner plates. “At all,” he finishes uncomfortably.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Eddie realizes, after an awkward moment. “Oh, I see.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Richie breathes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not even…?” Eddie asks, clearing his throat. “Like, at a college party or in the back of a bar or something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie shakes his head. “Connor was my first kiss.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Eddie says, more forcefully this time. “Oh, okay. Wow, so you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> new at this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie nods, blushing pink. “I’m, uh, sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie shakes his head quickly. “You don’t need to be sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know you’ve been out there for a while sluttin’ it up…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> you need to be sorry for,” Eddie teases gently, brushing Richie’s hair out of his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie bites his lip and peers up at Eddie, like he’s waiting for some kind of ultimatum.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine. You’re right. Your first time shouldn’t be a quick handjob on my couch,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That just makes Richie go green. “Um. Yeah, but like… the bedroom is also, uh… I don’t… feel like…” he stammers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie holds his hands up, gesturing for him to breathe. “Okay, shh, it’s fine. Whenever you’re ready,” he says. “If you’re ready.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will be,” Richie blurts. “I wanna. I have… like, a mental image I’m really fond of and everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?” Eddie asks, sitting back to invite Richie to elaborate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe… later…?” Richie tries, going greener and redder at once somehow. He melts into Eddie’s couch like he wants to disappear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Eddie says. “Yeah, of course, Rich.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t tell anyone,” Richie says. “I got a reputation to uphold, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And here I was planning to drive down the street with a megaphone yelling, ‘my boyfriend’s an adult virgin’,” Eddie drawls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie smiles, lopsided and sheepish. “Yeah, okay. Can we go back to making out?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, we can,” Eddie says, playing with Richie’s shirt as he dives back in for more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, Richie breaks away. “Are you going to drive me home tonight?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm,” Eddie says, sliding his hand over the side of Richie’s neck to bury his fingers in his hair. “I like hearing you ask that. If I get my way you’ll never touch a steering wheel again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not that bad of a driver!” Richie protests.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you just think the air pump screws into the air valve of a tire,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And now I know better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I drive,” Eddie insists. He pauses. “Would you like to stay over tonight, though? Just to sleep?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie breaks out in a wide grin that spreads over his entire face. “You want to?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do,” Eddie says, smiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me too,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Eddie replies. “I’ve got a client at noon, so…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, kicking me out for another man,” Richie says dramatically. “So soon into the relationship, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie flicks his nose. “He’s not attractive at all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie grins. “Oh, tell me more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie rolls his eyes. “I shouldn’t be gossiping about my clients.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I’m your </span>
  <em>
    <span>boyfriend,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Richie whines. “C’mon, let me at it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie sighs. “He’s new, probably closeted, clearly ripped his likes off the first BDSM website he saw, which is honestly pretty typical. We laid some boundaries and I’ll work out what he’s actually looking for tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not all subs can be as thoughtful and contemplative about their wants as me, huh?” Richie teases.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie takes a deep breath. He would so much rather be Domming Richie tomorrow, and Richie’s reminders of what a perfect sub he is don’t help. “No, I guess not,” Eddie murmurs, pulling Richie in for a kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie melts into it, like always, and that’s more than enough to make up for no scenes for the foreseeable future.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulls away and grins. “Tell me more about how unattractive he is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie snorts, standing and dragging Richie with him. “He’s completely unremarkable. For a second I thought he looked familiar and then I realized that’s because I’ve seen white paint dry before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh</span>
  <em>
    <span> ho</span>
  </em>
  <span> talk </span>
  <em>
    <span>dirty</span>
  </em>
  <span> to me,” Richie says as Eddie leads him down the hallway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Time to shower,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie laughs, then stops. “Ah, fuck, I don’t have anything to wear for the night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie crosses his arms and clears his throat. He’d known this moment would come, but it’s still just as embarrassing. “Promise you won’t make fun of me,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you know I can’t,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie groans and throws his arms up. “I bought you pajamas, are you happy?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie blinks at him. “You what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was an impulse buy!” Eddie snaps. “I was at the store and there were boxers and shorts that were 100% cotton and seemed comfortable and in your size and…!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie lights up. He sways into Eddie’s space like he’s pulled there by an invisible force, radiating joy with his whole body. “Was it a sexy impulse buy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it was a… a…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A </span>
  <em>
    <span>romantic</span>
  </em>
  <span> impulse buy?” Richie croons.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re grocery store boxers,” Eddie says dryly. “That’s not romantic.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes it is!” Richie protests.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I should have asked,” Eddie says. Richie’s nose bumps against his cheek and he doesn’t know if he’s doing any of this right, really, and Richie’s standards are so low.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nooo,” Richie whines. “I like this. I like when you just… do stuff for me. That’s great. I feel special.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie feels shivery at that. Good lord, he’s turned on by making Richie feel special. “Actually maybe I’ll shower first,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie furrows his brow, but it clicks way too fast. He’s too smart. Eddie can’t take it. “Oh my god are you going to </span>
  <em>
    <span>jerk off?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>he blurts. “Because you </span>
  <em>
    <span>bought me boxers?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” Eddie snaps. “Not exactly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god,” Richie says, grinning. He’s overjoyed, then unsure. “You don’t mind?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mind jerking off?” Eddie asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I mean… Kind of a bummer,” Richie says. “Getting your own rocks off with your boyfriend in the other room just twiddling his thumbs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie raises his brows. “Richie,” he warns.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, I know, I shouldn’t force myself until I’m ready. I’ve heard the after school specials,” Richie says, “but aren’t you at least a </span>
  <em>
    <span>little</span>
  </em>
  <span> annoyed?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I’m just horribly horny,” Eddie says. “And I’ll deal with it until you’d like to tap in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie snorts out a little laugh. “Tap in and wrestle Eddie’s dick, gotcha.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie rolls his eyes. “Make yourself at home, you aggravating little bugger.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I will,” Richie says, waggling his brows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie sighs aggressively, then grabs his pajamas and heads to the bathroom. He wrestles his way out of his clothes a little too angrily, bumping against the sink. He hopes Richie didn’t hear it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hurries to turn on the water and rubs his hands over his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie’s a </span>
  <em>
    <span>virgin.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes a deep breath and slides his hand down his chest to wrap it around his dick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s never gotten the appeal of “taking someone’s virginity” but there’s something special about it here, about being the one to help Richie learn new things that can make him feel good. Eddie wants to make him feel so, so good. He wants Richie to unravel beneath him, unmade by pleasure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He imagines the small noises trapped in the back of Richie’s throat when they’re making out and it’s getting heavy, finally breaking loose as Eddie fucks him. He imagines Richie clawing at him helplessly, grasping at him in a desperate bid to anchor himself as he falls apart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tries to mimic it, leaning his forehead against the tile and digging his nails into the back of his neck, but his nails are too short. He speeds up his other hand instead, tightening his fingers until he’s hedging on discomfort along with pleasure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s seen Richie in subspace too many times. He can close his eyes and picture it, the way he goes loose and dazed, relaxing into whatever position Eddie has tied him into. He loosens his fingers, thrusting into them desperately, imagining Richie gasping in ecstasy, offering no resistance, completely and utterly Eddie’s to lavish with gratification.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He comes, shuddering, then winces.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He feels ridiculous and guilty all at once.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He washes himself quickly, pulling on his pajama pants and heading back to his bedroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The drawer on his dresser clatters shut the moment he sticks his head in, Richie swivelling around and flattening himself back against the dresser. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie pauses, perched on the edge of a smile. He wants to tease Richie, but he has to abort the spiral he’s heading into first. “Am I being ridiculous?” he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie blinks at him. “Come again?” He barks out a quick laugh. “Geddit, because you just…” He sighs and shakes his head subtly, like he’s internally scolding himself. “Nevermind. What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“With this… not Domming thing,” Eddie says. “I mean, it’s not like I’ve stopped being… I don’t know…” He sits down on the edge of the bed and pinches the bridge of his nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bossy?” Richie asks, joining Eddie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Commanding,” Eddie corrects, just because he can. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie stops himself from laughing with a wry little smile. “Does it make you feel better? Not Domming right now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know, maybe,” Eddie mutters. “It feels kind of like a guard rail hanging in the middle of nowhere. It’s not actually doing anything, it’s just… reassuring me that there’s a guard rail.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie practically squirms with the urge to make a joke. Eddie watches him, warmth rushing through him. “Okay, okay,” Richie says, spreading his hands like he’s holding a talk. “If we did a scene right now, how would you feel?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Incredibly</span>
  </em>
  <span> stressed,” Eddie replies without hesitation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There you go,” Richie says, clapping a hand onto Eddie’s thigh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie sighs. “But even if we don’t do it </span>
  <em>
    <span>officially,</span>
  </em>
  <span> I’m still </span>
  <em>
    <span>me,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he says. “I have </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> many control issues.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie grins. “I know,” he says. “I like you that way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I get uncomfortable when children’s media uses mind control or hypnosis as a plot device because I can’t think of it as anything but sexual and I feel like children shouldn’t be seeing it,” Eddie blurts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie stares at him. “I’m sorry, </span>
  <em>
    <span>where </span>
  </em>
  <span>did that come from?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie barrels on. “Like, that’s crazy, right? I have </span>
  <em>
    <span>crazy</span>
  </em>
  <span> control issues and… and </span>
  <em>
    <span>kinks.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Kinks that go hand in hand with control issues, which are just…” He takes a deep breath. “They’re just so bad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie makes a huffed sound in an aborted laugh, then pulls himself together, only to start laughing anyway. “Your thought process is </span>
  <em>
    <span>bonkers,</span>
  </em>
  <span> dude, but I think I -- hang on, we just watched </span>
  <em>
    <span>Loony Tunes!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie feels like he’s walked right into impending doom. “No. No, don’t you dare.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you seen the one where Duck Dodgers gets hypnotized by a vampire?” Richie asks. “Or the one where Wile E. Coyote hypnotizes the Road Runner? Pendulum watch and all, man, did you… </span>
  <em>
    <span>have you seen the new </span>
  </em>
  <span>Loony Tunes</span>
  <em>
    <span>?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut the fuck up!” Eddie blurts, clapping a hand over Richie’s mouth. He can feel himself blushing so hard he’s about to catch flames. “Literally shut the fuck up, I will </span>
  <em>
    <span>die.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie’s eyes twinkle at him over Eddie’s hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you even remember this stuff?” Eddie asks. “You just have a recollection of every Looney Tunes hypnosis scene on command?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have a </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> good memory,” Richie says, tugging Eddie’s hand away. “So like did you get a boner while we were watching the movie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not a </span>
  <em>
    <span>Loony Tunes</span>
  </em>
  <span> fetish,” Eddie snaps. “I don’t get a boner from every character that’s ever been hypnotized.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But…” Richie says, wandering dangerously close to the heart of the matter. “Do you get a boner when it happens to them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie buries his face in his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie lets out a laugh so strangled it sounds inhuman, then wheezes his way into raucous laughter. “Oh my god. Oh my god, Eddie!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up, it’s really…” Eddie mutters into his hands. “It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>embarrassing.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, okay,” Richie wheezes, gasping for air. “Oh, ooh, okay. Hang on, I’m working on it, hang on.” He giggles for a moment longer, then wipes his eyes and tries to compose himself. “Sorry. What were we talking about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My control issues,” Eddie reminds him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie makes a high pitched noise in an attempt to not laugh. “Okay yes, sorry, I’m sorry, I…” He gulps down a large breath. “Okay. I think I follow and… Look. You’re honestly very considerate with your control issues. I don’t feel manipulated or overcontrolled by you ever. It’s okay if your control issues rear their head in how you date me, and it’s also okay that not Domming me is what makes you feel like you’re keeping an eye on them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I feel bad about avoiding it,” Eddie mutters, “when I’m just going to turn around and ban you from driving cars.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, but that’s sexy,” Richie whines. “Please ban me from driving cars, car daddy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, good, now whenever I’m too horny I can just picture you saying that and kill my boner right away,” Eddie says, earning an adorable giggle from Richie. “But you see my point, right? I’m still…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie puts an arm around him and pulls him in. “If you’re gonna be stressed out Domming me before you’ve reached an equilibrium in our relationship, I don’t want it. Even if it’s just a symbolic gesture, it’s fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie rubs his hands together nervously. “You don’t… miss it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure I do,” Richie says. “But until you wanna do it again, I’m just gonna have to Dom myself in the shower.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie snorts out a halfhearted laugh. “Okay.” He smiles softly. “Don’t think I didn’t see you peeking at my Dom drawer, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie squirms. “Yeah. What’s the one with all the leather tassels?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The flogger?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie nods. “Would it be terribly unethical for you to take pictures when you use them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie raises a brow. “You’re into it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not… the pain thing,” Richie says. “But aesthetically, ya know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie bites his lip and files that away for later. “I don’t know where that falls in terms of prostitution laws.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, that makes sense,” Richie says. “Save it for the lucky bastard masochists, then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie laughs. He pulls Richie in to kiss his cheek. “Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If your floating guard rail makes you feel better, then it’s a good guard rail in my book,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie ruffles his hair. “Go shower.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie grins and kisses him before heading over to the bathroom, leaving Eddie to lay back on the bed and breathe until Richie’s back, dressed in the shorts Eddie got him. “Kind of amazing you knew my size,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I made an educated guess,” Eddie says, holding his arm out for Richie to flop down onto his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You spend a lot of time staring at my ass, huh?” Richie asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a non-negligible amount,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie “ooo”s at him and snuggles closer, folding his arms in so he can curl up with Eddie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie rolls his eyes. “Go to sleep you little shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie laughs. “Okay. Goodnight, car daddy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie sighs heavily. “Good night, fuckhead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>**</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie wakes up sweaty and with his arm asleep while Richie snores away peacefully on him, but he doesn’t mind, not when Richie’s snoring softly and nuzzling at him in his sleep. He watches him for a few minutes before he has to extract his arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie snorts awake. “G’morn?” he slurs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie grimaces, rubbing his arm and wishing he could feel it. “Good morning,” he says, then he rolls them over so he’s straddling Richie and kisses him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie makes a noise in the back of his throat and palms at Eddie’s shirt sleepily. Eddie pulls away and brushes his messy curls out of his face. Richie croaks, “I could get used to waking up like this.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, me too,” Eddie murmurs, mouthing at Richie’s neck. He bites at it gently, kneading the skin through his teeth with his tongue until Richie’s breathing tightly and there’s a lovely little hickey there. He smiles. “For later today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm,” Richie says. “I’ll be sure to poke it whenever I’m wistfully wondering what you’re up to with another man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wish it was you,” Eddie assures him, a little too urgently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie grabs his shoulders before he can dive in for another kiss. “Hey, you know I’m kidding, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh?” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About being jealous,” Richie says. “I’m really not, I just gotta needle you for the comedy, ya know? It’s cool. If anything I’m more jealous of people you fix cars for. I see how horny you get for their engines.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie rolls his eyes. “Okay, Rich.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like, you don’t have to appease me or anything,” Richie says. “I’m not actually gonna be moping.” He shrugs. “It’s a job. It’s a little sexual and you love it, but it’s a job. It’s actually one thing I’m not insecure about.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie pauses. “Yeah, well, I mean it,” he says. “I’d rather be with you. I’d rather be… doing it to you.” He sighs. “Not specifically what I’m planning for this guy, because he definitely seems like more of a masochist than you, but…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, well,” Richie says, taking his hands and weaving their fingers together. “I just wanted you to know. I’m only kidding.” He hums. “But I appreciate the hickey because I am going to be pretty horny thinking about how I know for a fact you’re Domming someone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Eddie says, not sure how far he can push this. “I could… take some pictures while you make breakfast. You know, with the riding crop. And if you want you could… use those as a visual reference. If you feel comfortable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie pauses. “I… yeah, okay, I’d like that,” he says. “Like, naked? Naked pictures?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you… like them to be naked pictures?” Eddie asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie goes pale. “Uh. Theoretically, yes,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have leather pants,” Eddie offers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh thank god,” Richie breathes, like he’s just been yanked back from the brink of death. “Yeah, that works.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie smiles and kisses him again. “Okay. I’ll wear them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great,” Richie says. “Would you like crepes for breakfast?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I would,” Eddie says. “Right after I kiss you a little more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can live with that,” Richie says, pulling Eddie back in to lock their lips together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>**</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie makes crepes with cocoa and sugar, which turns out to be extremely delicious, and then they end up making out on the couch until right before Eddie’s client is meant to show up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My place when you’re done?” Richie asks, breathless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Eddie says, kissing him one more time in the door as Richie inches away one reluctant shuffle at a time until he can’t anymore without faceplanting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie finally breaks their kiss, ecstatic at the little grin Richie gives him as he shimmies back up to his full height. He blows Eddie a kiss and starts walking away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He watches as Richie starts down the street, heart nearly bursting when Richie does a little skip in his step while rounding the corner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An aggressive bout of honking tears him away from watching Richie wistfully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turns around to flip the source off and groans. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A black Mercedes greets him with another honk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighs and hops down the stairs to lean onto the car and peer in through the window.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor’s face has seen better days, but it’s healing. Eddie wants to ask if he needs his nose rebroken.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck off, I have a client in five minutes,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh,” Connor says. “Not really.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie frowns at him, then groans even harder. “That’s why he looked familiar. He’s in your piece of shit fire hydrant movie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, look, that movie made a lot more sense before the studio got involved,” Connor protests.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Was it still about a fucking sentient fire hydrant?” Eddie snaps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, but--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then it was fucking shit,” Eddie replies. “Why the fuck are you sending me fake clients, Connor?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you just… get in the car with me? I just want to talk,” Connor says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Give me your keys,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck for?” Connor snaps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you don’t drive into a wall to try to kill me or something!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?!” Connors says. “Even if I wanted to </span>
  <em>
    <span>murder you, </span>
  </em>
  <span>that’d kill me too!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know what a dumb fucker like you is capable of!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor angrily hands him the keys. “Happy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Eddie says, but he rounds the car to get in the passenger seat. “Talk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was gonna try to fuck you over, try to get you to say something sexual to my actor on tape so I could use it against you, because you’re not supposed to do that, right? I was just gonna twist your arm a little, feel more… I don’t know, like a man. But I didn’t realize you and Richie were actually…” Connor starts, looking uncomfortable. He shakes his head. “I don’t… actually want to make a minefield of vengeance bullshit around him. So… sorry, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie glares at him, but that’s almost the only thing that Connor could have said to earn him a modicum of respect from Eddie. “So I’m just supposed to ignore you trying to fuck me over?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, I didn’t have to fucking tell you that I was doing this!” Connor protests. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not gonna congratulate you for having a little bit of a conscience when you think </span>
  <em>
    <span>maybe</span>
  </em>
  <span> Richie could be watching,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor glowers at him. “You broke my nose, man!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you’re trying to get me arrested for it?” Eddie growls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Connor blurts. “You don’t just get fined or something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” Eddie snaps. “It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>illegal.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but… I mean, come on, half the world is sleeping with their clients regardless of the profession!” Connor says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“First of all, fuck you,” Eddie says. “You’re lucky I don’t snap your neck here and now for how you’ve messed with Richie’s head as his goddamn boss. Second of all, if I sleep with my clients on the clock in the framework of my job and someone catches me, it’s prostitution,” Eddie growls. “So what the fuck?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, I didn’t realize that,” Connor mutters. “I just… I wanted…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie does his best not to strangle him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I nearly called my cousin,” Connor mutters. “To come… I don’t know, teach you a lesson.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhmm,” Eddie grits out, furious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But he’s a nutjob,” Connor says. “The worst kind of cop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you wanted to set him on me,” Eddie says. “Thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t,” Connor says. “I didn’t. Want to. That’s why I thought if I showed you who’s boss, I’d feel… less…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pathetic?” Eddie suggests.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor sighs. “Less like every time my cousin comes in and helps me be less of a pussy he owns more of my soul. Like every time he does something for me I have to ask him for more because he fucking owns me and he’s… he </span>
  <em>
    <span>likes</span>
  </em>
  <span> it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks so miserable, Eddie doesn’t have the heart to be any madder at him. He throws his back against the seat. “I don’t think he’s helping you, man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor winces. “He doesn’t, but…” He rubs a hand over his face. “You have family that makes you crazy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Eddie says. “I really do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess Richie has a type,” Connor says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie raises a brow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not that…” Connor says, waving him off. “You guys are together, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We are,” Eddie says, tersely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor snorts. “Don’t worry, when I tried to hook up with him he bolted like I was trying to eat him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, trust me, I’m not jealous of you. Maybe next time you try to hook up with a guy you could avoid doing it under the guise of business,” Eddie bites. “And then you could attempt to not treat him like shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was scared,” Connor says. Under Eddie’s unrelenting glare, he adds, “And a dick.” Eddie’s glare doesn’t let up. “I’ll apologize to Richie next time I see him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie rolls his eyes. He’ll take the peace offering for now. “I’m guessing your cousin wouldn’t be very forgiving if you came out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My cousin, my uncle, my dad…” Connor rattles off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie sighs. It’s unfortunate that the issue weighing on him for days now just happens to fit too well here. “I don’t think it’s inevitable for us to become like the people hurt us,” he says. “It’s just easier.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor stays silent for a moment, then nods. “I’m sorry I hired an actor to seduce you. If you want, I can cover the cost of the session anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Truth be told, I don’t think I wanted to work with a client today,” Eddie admits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, then, you’re welcome,” Connor says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Could have picked a better looking guy,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s really boring looking, isn’t he?” Connor says. “But he was the only one who’d do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie laughs. “You are a very sad, pathetic man,” he says. “I think you can do better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks?” Connor says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Give me your phone,” Eddie demands. Connor gives him a cross look, but he does. “Let me know if you want recommendations for therapists, I’ve had a couple.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor sighs and nods as Eddie hands his phone back. “You’re a surprisingly nice guy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Eddie says. “And if you </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever</span>
  </em>
  <span> do anything to hurt Richie, I will put you in the hospital for a very long time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor gives him a tired thumbs up. Eddie nods his approval and leaves the car.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He marches up to his apartment, kicks the door in and stands staring at his bookcase.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a moment, he grabs the binder that should have Richie’s old contract. (The circled </span>
  <em>
    <span>novice</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>heterosexual</span>
  </em>
  <span> are peak comedy in hindsight.) He sits down on the couch leafs through it, smiling at the gold stars and Richie’s scrawled thoughts over several layers of white out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulls out a blank contract sheet. He circles </span>
  <em>
    <span>expert</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>homosexual</span>
  </em>
  <span> and then scans down to the blank areas for </span>
  <em>
    <span>wants.</span>
  </em>
  <span> After a moment’s thought he scrawls, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I want control that actually protects and allows the person in my care to flourish.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He swallows, trying to narrow down the thought that’s been worming its way into the back of his brain all day, since he’d walked Richie out of his apartment and steeled himself to work with a client instead. He chews at his pen, then warily lowers it to the page. In a corner, he adds a small </span>
  <em>
    <span>exclusivity?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He quickly folds up the paper and hides it in the same sheet protector as Richie’s contract. That’s enough for the day, he decides. He packs the binder away and grabs his jacket so he can head over to Richie’s place.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i originally had a longer subplot planned for connor (and by extension henry) and then current events happened i was like "literally no one wants this" and so cop henry bowers suddenly ceased to exist after this chapter</p><p>anyway did someone say went and maggie?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i wanted to give a couple of warnings for this chapter just in case but don't be alarmed, i promise it's very soft. (let me know if i forgot anything please)</p><p>warnings: coming out, a general lack of knowledge about how to talk to or about gay people, some weird gender notions, catholicism and all its sins &amp; misunderstandings bc frankly went is just an older catholic dad whose son just came out by bringing home a guy with a real norman bates vibe and there's only so much we can expect from him, plus eddie as always is just generally traumatized by his childhood</p><p>(but i promise you the toziers love their son)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Someone called </span>
  <em>
    <span>Who What Where Went</span>
  </em>
  <span> in your phone is calling you,” Eddie informs him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie nearly knocks Bev off the couch to grab his phone and answer quickly. She glares at him. “Hello, Father!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie frowns at him, confused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Son,” Went replies, in his typical dry manner. “This is your regularly scheduled pre-Thanksgiving call. What kind of pie would you like?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pecan,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wanted pumpkin,” Went informs him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And here I thought you cared about my opinion,” Richie says, pouting. Eddie is watching him like a hawk. It’s cute. Richie mouths, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m fine!</span>
  </em>
  <span> at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re probably talking about pie,” Bev whispers helpfully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pecan it is,” Went grumbles. “And now, your regularly scheduled needling. I promised your mother I’d give it at least a minute.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” Richie says. “I’ll put time on the clock.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We care about you very much,” Went intones. “We would like you to be happy. We love having you over just for you, but we also think you deserve to have someone to share things with, and we would like to remind you that any lady of yours is very welcome in our home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay, tell mom I’m bringing someone,” someone says, with Richie’s mouth. He snaps around to stare at Eddie in horror.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie merely shrugs. </span>
  <em>
    <span>If you want,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he mouths, like Richie hasn’t just dug himself a grave faster than any person ever has on the entire planet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Went is quiet for far too long. “You’re bringing someone?” he asks, like he isn’t sure how to feel about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh-huh,” Richie says, in the utmost panic. Why isn’t anyone stopping him? Why hasn’t Eddie wrestled the phone from him or possibly suplexed him out a window?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell him it’s a guy,” Stan whispers, like he’s watching a car crash and can’t look away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Went says. “Your mother’ll be glad to hear it. You know how much she’s wanted another girl around the house.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep,” Richie says. His soul has left his body and taken up residence in Antarctica.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ensuing silence is deafening. “I’m glad you’ve got someone you feel comfortable bringing home, kiddo,” Went says. “I’m sure we’ll love her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Richie breathes. “Uh, yeah. Well. Yes. We’ll be there!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” Went says. “Take care until then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will,” Richie squeaks, then hangs up the phone and throws it away from himself before he can accidentally say anything more. Four pairs of eyes stare at him, trying not to cringe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sweetie are you going to be okay doing this?” Patty asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie tries to answer her, but all he can do is breathe, “Oh god, what have I done?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he throws up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>**</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure you want to do this?” Eddie asks. He’s wearing a shirt with a neat little white collar under a sweater that screams </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m ready for a good ol’ church sanctioned Easter-egg hunt.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie stares into the bowl Bev had set in his lap when they’d headed out and nods. “Mhmm,” he manages, high pitched and panicked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to,” Eddie says. “Just tell them your girlfriend couldn’t make it. She’s an awful woman. Wretched. Enough to make you swear off women for life. It’s not your fault, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie dry heaves a little, just to be sure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Eddie murmurs, taking a hand off the steering wheel for a moment to squeeze Richie’s thigh. “Just trying to get you to make a joke so you’ll feel better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Richie says weakly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie smiles. “So, how aggressive should I be? Is this enemy territory?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh,” Richie says. “No. No, not really.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t really talk about them,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie sighs, settling against the window. “I mean, they’re not winning any parent of the year awards, but, you know, maybe an honorable mention. A bronze medal. A really genuine ‘you tried’ star.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not really fair. They worked a lot,” Richie explains. “They had bad parents and they started off with a lot of debt, so they were always busy. When they finally did get home, there I was, homework done perfectly, pencils shoved up my nose… they’d give me a pat and confiscate the nose pencils and then we’d eat dinner in front of the TV, you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie nods. Richie has no idea how he feels about any of this. He’s in his focused-on-you mode and won’t take his eyes off the road, and it makes Richie nervous. He almost wants Eddie to be as much of a mess as him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re fun and they’re always there for me when I ask,” Richie says. “It’s just…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not great at asking,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not really,” Richie says, taking a deep breath. “I told you about the charlie horse thing, right? That they’d stay up all night…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie smiles to himself. “Richie, do you want me to like your parents?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie takes a shaky breath. “Maybe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll do my best,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie swallows. “Okay,” he mumbles. He tries to stop talking, but it doesn’t last long before he’s blurting, “My mom wanted a girl. Like, not seriously, you know, but she’d joke about it whenever I was driving her crazy, and she’s always pestering me about bringing home a girl so she gets that daughter finally and…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He catches Eddie’s eyes in the rearview mirror. He looks amused and sympathetic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’ve never really been mad at me,” Richie mumbles. “Aggravated and exhausted, yes, but never </span>
  <em>
    <span>upset</span>
  </em>
  <span> with me, you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie pats his arm comfortingly. “I can’t promise they’ll be okay right away, but they’ll deal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think?” Richie asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It sounds like they love you a lot,” Eddie says. “Right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Richie mumbles. “They do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So they’ll deal,” Eddie says. “And until then, I’ve got your back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Richie hedges. It’s unfair that Eddie is cool as a cucumber while Richie is bouncing off the walls with terror. “You’re good? I mean, you’re not devoured by envy that my parents are normal human people?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m extremely relieved we’re not going to </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> mom’s for Thanksgiving, that’s for sure,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie twists to get into Eddie’s space as much as he dares while Eddie’s driving. “Will you have mother flashbacks? Should I shower with the curtain open?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you keep it up with the Norman Bates comparisons? Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, he was pretty hot,” Richie says, grinning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie spares him a quick glower. “To be honest, Richie, I don’t really associate other people’s mothers with my own mother.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” Richie says. “On account of them having human skin or the lack of pincers?” He mimics spider jaws with his hands and makes monster noises.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re exhausting sometimes, you know that?” Eddie says fondly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well sheesh, just because I got my mother impression bang-on doesn’t mean you have to do your own,” Richie huffs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie raises a brow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mother? Is that you? My, how you’ve shrunk in your decrepit old age,” Richie sighs dramatically. “Oh, take this exit here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie does, rolling his eyes as he does.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>**</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d planned his arrival so that no one would be home and he could let himself in. His parents are definitely at the store arguing about what turkey to buy, blissfully unaware that Richie is about to jump them with profoundly new information.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opens the door, struck by a surge of nostalgia, like he’s already preemptively preparing to be kicked out of here forever. He shows Eddie the coat rack and the shoe shelf, then wanders aimlessly down the foyer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie steps inside slowly, putting his shoes away and looking around. He nods at the mantel with all the pictures in the living room. “I see the pictures of you are isolated to one corner.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I assume </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> mother had a wallpaper made out of your baby pictures and put it up on every wall until it was just a suffocating panel of eyes bearing down on you?” Richie guesses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Something like that,” Eddie says, picking up one of Richie’s pictures. Richie’s drenched in mud, broken baby teeth beaming at the camera. “Wow, your face was literally all glasses as a kid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I grew into the glasses, not vice versa,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look like you had such squishy cheeks,” Eddie says tenderly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I was a goofy-looking, squishy-cheeked pair of glasses,” Richie chuckles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were so cute,” Eddie coos.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie awkwardly rubs at the back of his neck. It’s a struggle not to try to talk Eddie out of thinking so. It would be easier to deflect with jokes than stand here and face the fact that Eddie likes his baby face. “Yeah, okay,” he grits out. Eddie gives him a wry look as if to say, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Good boy. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“My room’s upstairs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie sets the picture back down and follows Richie upstairs to Richie’s room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It hasn’t changed much since Richie moved out for college, other than a foldable table propped under his old desk and some of his knickknacks being in boxes now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie smiles fondly as he steps inside, taking it all in. He closes the door, snorting loudly when he sees the giant bosom of the woman on the poster on the back of the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Foolproof cover,” Richie says, putting his hands on his hips. “Before you ask, I do actually play this game, but she’s a shit character choice. However… boobs. Boys like boobs, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do kinda like boobs,” Eddie says. “They’re very aesthetically pleasing. Soft. Round.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, that’s exactly what you’re supposed to feel about boobs,” Richie says. “Excellent geometry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t it?” Eddie says innocently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie laughs, then lets a shaky breath out. “Fuck, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> don’t want them to be mad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie nods, sympathetic. He pulls Richie close, hands on his face. “Whatever happens, I’m here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie nods as well, taking a deep breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door opens and closes downstairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit,” Richie hisses. He’d thought they’d have a few minutes longer to settle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Richie, is that your car outside or do we have a very fancy burglar on our hands?” Maggie calls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck!” Richie says, feeling dizzy with panic. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can still climb out through the window if you want,” Eddie offers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie shakes his head. “Let me just… warm them up for a sec.” He doesn’t wait for an answer, ducking out the door. “Uh, yeah, Mom, that’s ours!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a very nice car,” Maggie says, unpacking a bag of groceries into their fruit bowl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie finds himself absurdly rooted to the stairs, his heart in his ears. She hasn’t looked up yet, and Richie worries that when she does, he’ll crumble into dust.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does that mean you really </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> brought a girl? Your father didn’t want to call back and ask if you were joking, and I told him we’d have too much food to eat if you were, but you know your father,” she says. She notices his silence, looking up. “Is she pretty?” she prods. She sounds gentle. Richie wonders what she thinks he’s so nervous about. “I’m glad you brought her home, you know I’ve been waiting forever to pester some poor girl of yours about heels and glittery eyeshadow…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s at this point that Eddie seems to notice that Richie is going to stand frozen like a deer in headlights indefinitely, because he quietly makes eye contact with him, raising his brows in question. Richie manages a petrified nod, and Eddie steps out of Richie’s room to put his arm around Richie’s waist. “Well, I’ve worn both those things,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a long moment where nothing happens, like someone hit pause on the entire universe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, the fruit bowl hits the ground and shatters, swinging it back into motion again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Maggie breathes softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie finds himself shaking like a leaf, trying to swallow and failing repeatedly. Maggie stares at them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The seconds tick by. Richie can somehow still hear the grandfather clock in the hall over his heartbeat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I see,” she says, as it becomes clear the ball is still in her court. “You’re… And you’re… you…” She points awkwardly between them. “Uh…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m his boyfriend, yes,” Eddie says. He looks at Richie, still frozen, and gently takes his hand. He eases him down the stairs, pulling him in close when they reach the bottom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Maggie says, a petrified smile plastered over her face. “Yes, that… would make sense, because it is the boy… version of… girlfriend. Which, ah, it seems. You are.” She nods furiously. “A boyfriend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes ma’am,” Eddie says, patient as a robot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maggie, the damn trunk is catching again,” Went says, freezing as he steps inside and slowly takes in the scene before him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Time seems to have slowed even further.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wentworth, this is Richie’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>boy</span>
  </em>
  <span>friend,” Maggie says, pointing with both hands as though Went would be unable to distinguish an entire other man from his son.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nice to meet you, sir,” Eddie says, terrifyingly prim.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything stands still. Richie wonders if the only way to break this moment would be to pass out, then contemplates the seemingly astronomical chances of that happening. Eddie tugs him in closer, a firm hand on Richie’s hip. It’s the only thing keeping Richie even remotely tethered to this plane of existence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Went’s face goes dark. Richie can’t breathe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Living room!” Maggie blurts. “Maybe we should. Sit. In the living room. Which is what it’s for. We have several couches. Seats. Only one couch but there’s also a loveseat and two armchairs, so… we can sit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Mrs. Tozier,” Eddie says, somehow not absolutely losing his mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, no, Maggie, please,” Maggie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They all stand rooted to the spot until Eddie takes pity on all of them. He puts his hands on Richie’s hips and presses him forward, walking him over to the loveseat. He sits him down, then leaves to sit on the couch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alarms go off in Richie’s brain, and he tries to fight through the adrenaline fueled paralysis to tell him that Eddie is absolutely the only thing keeping him sane right now. He can’t leave, even if it is to let Richie’s parents get used to the idea without being blatant about PDA.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thankfully he doesn’t have to. Maggie comes to his rescue, flustered as she is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, nono, you two can sit together, we’re not Puritans,” she says, uncomfortably ushering Eddie back to Richie’s side. “We’re hardly even Catholics! We’re only Catholics on Sundays, and Easter. Which </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> a Sunday. Oh, and Good Friday, no meat on Good Friday. But you know, the Pope… he… is quite liberal, these days. So… you know.” She looks frantically at Went to rescue her. “Isn’t that right, Wentworth?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Went says, watching Eddie closely as he sits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Pope,” Maggie says, sitting in the middle of the couch like she hopes the couch will save her instead. “He’s quite liberal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm,” Went says gruffly. Eddie meets his eyes and they both stop blinking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie tucks his hands between his knees, a nervous shiver rattling through his body. Eddie puts an arm around him firmly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, what was your name?” Went bites.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eddie,” Eddie says. “Kaspbrak.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Kaspbrak, that’s…?” Maggie says, glancing between Went and Eddie like she’s trying to figure out whether to call the bomb squad. Richie’s face has gone numb.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Polish,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Polish s-sausage,” Maggie blurts, then sinks her face into her hands in profound mortification.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The staring contest is, if anything, getting worse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maggie looks into the ether, horrified, then tries her damnedest to keep the conversation going. “So, Eddie!” she says, too loudly. “What do you do for a living, Eddie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie blacks out a little.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m a mechanic,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I didn’t realize that you… Well that… In retrospect, Richie was never much for cars,” Maggie rambles. She visibly realizes the flaws in her logic, tracing her thoughts with a finger in the air. “But then again, you are, and… logically… you must also be… ah… well…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her fumbling is almost enough to distract Eddie from staring Went down. Richie curses the fact that he can’t value how funny it is because he’s about to puke all over their carpet if Went and Eddie don’t blink in the next two seconds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that how you two met?” Went asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God knows Richie needed to go to a mechanic,” Maggie murmurs, watching the rug despondently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Eddie says, squeezing Richie reassuringly. “I did end up fixing his car, but--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank god,” Maggie murmurs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“-- we met at a wrap party,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Went stands, forceful. “Richie, could I speak to you outside?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie nearly starts sobbing then and there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wentworth,” Maggie hisses through her teeth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d like to have a private conversation with our son, Maggie, that’s all,” Went says icily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie looks at Eddie, which doesn’t seem to help.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie purses his lips, but he nudges Richie to his feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie watches numbly as Went opens the porch door. He steps outside with what feels like someone else’s feet, then watches the porch door clack shut, leaving him outside and Eddie still inside. He can only hope Eddie is calm enough to find his mother funny in his stead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Were you sober?” Went asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie blinks at him. “Excuse me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When you met,” Went says. “Were you sober?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie has to take a moment to pick his jaw up off the floor. “I’m not </span>
  <em>
    <span>confused,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Dad,” he manages. “I’m gay.” He feels the porch spin as he says it, but manages to stay upright.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not asking about you being gay, I’m asking about him,” Went says, pointing inside. “Were you sober when you met him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… Yes,” Richie manages. “Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is he associated with that movie of yours?” Went asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie stares at him, baffled. “What movie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your movie, the latest one!” Went snaps. “Is he involved in that shit? With the.. the chains and the…? Does he hit you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Richie manages, not sure what part to focus on first. The fact that his father can apparently tell how he and Eddie got acquainted or the accusation. “No, he doesn’t hit me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then what the hell is going on?” Went shouts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you </span>
  <em>
    <span>talking</span>
  </em>
  <span> about?” Richie shouts back, confusion slowly shifting to anger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have never seen you like this, Richard, that’s what I’m talking about!” Went shouts. “I have never seen you so quiet or scared! You are shrinking into yourself and looking at that man for approval, and I want to know what he’s done to you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something in Richie snaps. “I’m not scared of Eddie!” he snarls. “I’m scared of you! The way you guys go on and on about bring home a </span>
  <em>
    <span>girl</span>
  </em>
  <span> and the way you let Father John ramble on about the destruction of America because of gender neutral bathrooms in the White House. Or telling me that maybe if I learned to play ball the other boys would let up on me or talking about how much easier your lives would have been if I was a girl or how disappointed you are that I’m not bringing home a girl already to fill the void I left in your lives by being a guy who doesn’t even like girls! I’m looking at Eddie to protect me from </span>
  <em>
    <span>you!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Tears blur his vision and he can’t even stand to look at Went as he storms back inside and up the stairs, vaulting into his rooms before the sobs hit him like a truck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sinks down beside his bed and weeps until Eddie comes to find him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’d he say to you?” Eddie asks. He’s trying so hard to be gentle, Richie can tell. Richie’s going to have to buy him a certificate that says, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Didn’t jump to conclusions and brain my parents.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The actual content of the conversation comes slithering into Richie’s brain. “God, nothing,” he says, still sobbing. “He didn’t actually… I think he just - fuck - just misunderstood, I’m sorry, I’m...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie slides down beside him. “What did he say?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He asked if you were hitting me,” Richie sobs out. “He thought you were the reason I was scared. Like, because you were some kind of nefarious fiend or something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He said nefarious fiend?” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, those are my words, not his,” Richie says, sniffling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’d be surprised,” Eddie says with a small smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh?” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When he got back inside, I got really mad and the first thing he said was, ‘I seem to have mistaken you for a nefarious fiend’,” Eddie says. “He seemed sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Richie says. “I… okay, so I learned a lot of my vocabulary from my dad.” He tries to wipe his face, but the tears keep coming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So he was being protective?” Eddie asks. Richie manages a nod. “He wasn’t mad at you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, he wasn’t,” Richie croaks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, I think we can deal with that,” Eddie murmurs, pulling Richie in for a hug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Richie says. “Yeah, maybe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie rubs his back and lets him cry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think my mom is anywhere near done with the dumb questions,” Richie manages, eventually, hiccuping softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think we can deal with that, too,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re kind of funny,” Richie manages, trying to gauge Eddie’s reaction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie kisses the top of his head. “They’re very funny.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know why I’m crying,” Richie sobs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie chuckles. “You’re scared. It’s fine,” he whispers, holding Richie tightly and letting him weep to his heart’s content.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie finally grinds to a halt, wiping his face. “I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You haven’t done anything wrong,” Eddie says. He stays there, holding Richie a moment longer. “And fair warning, now that I’m seeing your parents at least attempting to be good about this, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> want them to like me, so I’m probably going to be weirder than you any second now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah?” Richie asks, laughing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like, pathologically,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay, we’ll put the knives on the top shelf where you can’t reach, Norman,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I get disturbing please stop me,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s cool, you can try to fuck my parents if you want,” Richie says. He wipes his face with his sleeve. “It’s cool, dude. They’ll like you, I promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie kisses his forehead. “You think?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or you’ll snap and kill them,” Richie says. “I’ll still love you after you go full Bates.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie sighs heavily. “I hate you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Richie says, pulling back. “Are you okay? For real?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie sighs. “Yeah. I’ll be fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m here for you too,” Richie murmurs. “If you need to slip out and breathe for a bit…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m okay,” Eddie says. “I just… might be a bit intense.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, that’s not new,” Richie teases. “Oh but, uh, don’t mention… anything about the Dom stuff. My dad got worried you were, uh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>involved</span>
  </em>
  <span> with my movie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, if he’s going off of anything he might know about your movie, he’s right to be concerned,” Eddie says. “But don’t worry, I didn’t plan to tell your parents about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie looks around like he’s expecting someone to kick down the door. “Your parents don’t check up on you when you’re upset?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, they wait for me to come out of hiding to apologize,” Richie says, cleaning his face. “Otherwise I get snippy with them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Boundaries,” Eddie says. “That’s good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keep it in your pants, Norman,” Richie says, letting Eddie pull him to his feet. His voice is still wobbling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Call me Norman Bates one more time, and I’m gonna wring your neck,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie laughs. “You ready? My dad might be ready to fight you at first, but he’ll get over it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m your first boyfriend,” Eddie says softly. “I think that’s normal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, yes, how could I forget. I am a lady you intend to deflower,” Richie drawls in a southern accent, but the realization does help. This </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> normal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Squeeze my hand if you need anything,” Eddie murmurs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie wipes his nose with the back of his hand. “Ditto.” Eddie takes his hands in his, and Richie squeezes them tightly. “I’ll talk you up, I promise. They’ll like you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie smiles, unclenching his jaw a little. His brows stay furrowed, in a cute little way. “Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They both take deep breaths at the same time, then start laughing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s do this, baby,” Richie murmurs. Eddie nods sharply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They link their hands and head to the kitchen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Went and Maggie are cleaning up the shattered bowl when they get downstairs, having a heated, hissed discussion as they do. Richie can hear snatches of </span>
  <em>
    <span>well, what was that about the cars?</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>the man is very intense! </span>
  </em>
  <span>He tries not to laugh, relief washing through him. They’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>trying.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He clears his throat and they both shoot to his feet like kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We let Father John talk because we’re really just waiting for him to die,” Went blurts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s been his time since the 90s,” Maggie says. “I’m starting to worry he’ll be saying the long overdue process of holding pedophiles in the Vatican accountable ‘shameful’ </span>
  <em>
    <span>long</span>
  </em>
  <span> after the rest of us are gone, frankly.” She stares into the air in horror. “I’ve never said that out loud before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe we should speed the process up,” Went mutters, equally appalled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, guys, you don’t have to murder any priests for me, I just freaked out a little,” Richie assures them. He sniffles, ready to burst into tears again, now in the opposite direction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie cautiously puts a hand on Richie’s back, eyeing Went, who seems to be trying to ease his way into an apology without having to use any words. Eddie, on the other hand, appears to be trying to gauge what supportive touches will get the most approval from Richie’s parents, also without saying a single word.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you say so,” Maggie says. “Also, I don’t want you to be a girl. Unless you want to be a girl. I don’t know how this works.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Richie says gently. “It’s extremely obvious.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so sorry,” she whispers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not trans. I am very confident that I am a guy,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, that’s lovely!” Maggie says. “Whatever you want!” She sighs. “I didn’t think you were taking things I said while watching the Gilmore Girls and prying peas out of your ear seriously. If I’d realized you were I would have never teased about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you’re saying you wanted me to be Rory Gilmore,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” she says, contemplating it for a moment. “Yes? Only theoretically, though! I like you as you are!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s fair,” Richie says. “I mean, who doesn’t want Rory Gilmore?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t she cheat on her boyfriend and then sleep with him after he was married?” Eddie asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There, see!” Maggie says, far too urgently. “You’re better than Rory Gilmore! I think. Clearly I don't know much about your love life, but...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're looking at him," Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh," she says. "Oh, hun, do you mean…" She seems to be piecing together the fact that this is Richie's first relationship ever, and her lip is wobbling dangerously. Richie blanches.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought it was corn in his nose,” Went says, eyes adding, </span>
  <em>
    <span>sorry for the accusations but don't say I never did anything for you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“No no, that was a different time,” Maggie says. “That was at daycare, peas in the ear was here at home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, right,” Went says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jeez, with all the veggies in orifices, you probably should have seen this coming,” Richie says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie chokes, but the joke is lost on his parents, who stare at him blankly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cucumbers, guys,” Richie explains, then regrets it intensely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It still takes them a moment. “Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Christ,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Maggie says as it clicks. Went gives Richie his most disapproving stare. “You actually…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. I was kidding,” Richie says hurriedly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Maggie says. “Because that… that would be a limit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I understand,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We eat those,” she mutters under her breath, like a defense.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silence settles over them. They all stare at each other for a long moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We had no idea,” Maggie blurts. “In my mind all gay kids were like that dainty little child on Glee and you’ve always been very…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rambunctious,” Went offers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maggie nods frantically. “I didn’t realize gays--"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Gay people," Eddie murmurs under his breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gay people,” Richie says, louder, so Eddie doesn’t have to be the bad guy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looks hilariously relieved at the correction. "-- gay people could be…” She gestures at him helplessly, “loud. Though, those drag race men are rather loud.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now… hold on…” Went says. “Those are… Those are actually men, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie can feel Eddie struggling not to lecture beside him. “Dad, are you asking if drag queens are trans?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie has never seen his father look so petrified. “Well, uh, yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re from a variety of sexualities and gender identities, but there’s a very large intersection between drag queens and gay men,” Eddie blurts, sounding bizarrely like he’s on Sesame Street.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie worms himself out of his grasp and puts an arm around him. At this point, Eddie may need more comfort than he does.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s a variety?” Maggie says despondently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mom, surely you’ve heard of bisexuals,” Richie says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, yes,” she says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s also pansexuality, asexuality, demisexuality…” Richie starts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, god, how many months do we have to figure all this out before we become bad parents?” she says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maggie, you’re making them both uncomfortable,” Went chides.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, and you’re not,” Maggie protests. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mom, it’s fine,” Richie says. “Take your time. We are both gay, cis men. You’ve heard of those.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I suppose I have,” she says. She notices Eddie, who looks like he might be getting stage fright. “Eddie, please tell me your parents handled this worse so we don’t feel like such fools.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie tries to signal her to stop talking, but it's too late.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My dad is dead and I have a restraining order against my mother,” Eddie blurts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, my. That’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>such</span>
  </em>
  <span> a low bar,” Maggie whispers. She exchanges looks with Went, a very obvious silent conversation streaming between them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But don’t worry, we have a dungeon to lock him in when the Norman Bates urges get too intense,” Richie says, squeezing Eddie closer to reassure him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, I didn’t say Norman Bates,” Went says quickly, holding up a defensive finger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry, Richie teases me with it all the time,” he says. “I’m used to it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The resemblance is rather uncanny,” Maggie says. “Would you like a rootbeer, Eddie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nods, shoulders relaxing a little under Richie’s arm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“C’mon, he’s only killed like two people,” Richie drawls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just be sure to keep your knives on the top shelf,” Went offers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That finally seems to break Eddie out of the funk. He looks at Richie and snorts. “So all of this is just genetic, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ha </span>
  <em>
    <span>ha,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Richie says. “Can you even see any of us from down there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie sighs, which only makes Richie grin harder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now wait, when you two have sex--” Maggie starts, as she hands Eddie the rootbeer. Went quickly shakes his head warningly. She alters course as quickly and sloppily as she can. “Does anyone want some fruit?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie already sees it coming, covering his face so he doesn’t have to watch as Richie excitedly puffs himself up. “I’ll take a banana.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maggie doesn’t get it for a moment, then sighs, “Oh, no, Richie, no!” in the most despondent voice, sending Richie spiraling into laughter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>**</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As it turns out, Eddie has a superpower for pleasing parents. Within an hour he’s reorganized their spice rack, done their dishes, fixed the trunk and taught Maggie a new way to fold napkins. He has both of Richie’s parents eating out of the palm of his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dude, you’re on fire,” Richie whispers. “You could make them do anything at this point.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, it’s the childhood trauma,” Eddie says, giving Richie a peck on the cheek. Maggie and Went scurry about pretending they didn’t see it from the living room. “I think I’ve talked them out of asking which of us is the girl, so that’s progress.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh no, why?” Richie whines.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie raises his brows in question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See, you’re feminine enough to charm my mom, but masculine enough to gain the fatherly approval of my dad,” Richie whispers. “So they’ve both drawn opposite conclusions, and at some point they’re going to compare notes and it’s going to be a clusterfuck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, they’re probably still going to do that,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, definitely, but not in front of me,” Richie says, pouting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, I’ll let them be offensive next time,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Richie says. Eddie murmurs grumpily at him, and Richie smiles softly. “For real, Eds. Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie looks up at him, a little flustered. “Thank me on the way back after I’ve asked whether they like me for the hundredth time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie laughs. “They like you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His heart is beating a mile a minute as he leans in and kisses Eddie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maggie rushes by, covering her eyes with her hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mom, we’re not going to have sex in the hallway,” Richie calls after her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She drops her hand guiltily. “Sorry, I’m just trying to give you some privacy!” She shuffles off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie nods, chuckling, and looks back at Eddie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Still okay?” Eddie murmurs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Richie says. “It’ll be awkward for a while, but…” He shrugs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie nods. “If you need anything, let me know. I’m going to change your dad’s oil.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Careful, he might try to steal you from me if you’re too good at it,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie blushes, then tries to salvage it with a, “Fuck off!” as he leaves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie joins Maggie in the kitchen, checking on the turkey for her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s nice,” Maggie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, he is,” Richie replies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He takes care of you?” she asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Intensely,” Richie says, leaning against the counter with her. He bites his lip. “Are you disappointed?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” she says, too quickly. He gives her a look, and she sighs. “Not in you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” Richie says, swallowing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s nothing important,” she says. “I just had this childish fantasy about having another girl around the house to do girl stuff with. I’d practically picked out your future bride’s wedding dress and… well, he doesn’t seem the type to get married in drag.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I don’t think he is,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was all rather silly,” Maggie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you could probably convince Eddie to go shopping with you,” Richie offers. “He likes colorful fancy clothes, like you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I know,” Maggie says, rubbing Richie’s back. “I assume he doesn’t dress quite so much like a little church boy when he’s not trying to make an impression.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Richie says. “He’s very chique, normally.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nods. “It’s nice of you to offer,” she says. “But I want you to understand that you’re more important to me than any hypothetical daughter-in-law fantasies I might have had, alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie sniffles. “Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And if it makes you feel any better, I think your father has always wanted to get a little over-protective of you,” she says. “If anything I think his biggest disappointment is that Eddie is winning him over too quickly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Should I make some more Norman Bates comparisons so he can work himself up to doing a convincing shovel talk?” Richie asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I think he’s already planning one for when you leave and he deserves to fumble a little,” Maggie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Richie says. He stands with her a moment longer, then curls up onto her shoulder, crying as she hugs him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>**</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie takes a deep breath. He’s pressed against Eddie’s chest, the both of them squeezed together into Richie’s teenage bed, Eddie quietly twirling a lock of Richie’s hair around his finger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My parents are definitely having a very impassioned discussion about who’s the girl right now,” Richie whispers. “I saw them trying to mentally discuss it over dinner, it was so funny. You really threw them off by asking me to fix you a drink and then asking for some fruity shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie snorts. “Your parents are very weird about gender, aren’t they?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, they’re not,” Richie says. “They just have a betting problem.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh-huh,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The whole… thing about my mom wanting a girl,” Richie says. “I think she made a joke about it once and I made it into a </span>
  <em>
    <span>thing,</span>
  </em>
  <span> you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie shifts so he can see Richie a little better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I never wanted to stop liking guys,” Richie says. “I think guys are great. I like their… their smiles and their muscles and jaws… Every crush I’ve ever had I… I felt like </span>
  <em>
    <span>they</span>
  </em>
  <span> deserved to be loved, even by me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie pets his hair patiently, letting him continue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I was always told it was wrong to like boys,” Richie says. “So, logically, if they deserved it, but it was still wrong, then it was me that was wrong. It was really easy to convince myself that maybe I’d fucked up before even exiting the womb.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to be a girl,” Richie says. “To be clear. But I want shit like… Like you know in movies where there’s this perfect girl and she’s got a big asshole jock boyfriend who treats her like shit, and then the scrappy little hero comes in and kicks his ass and gets the girl?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wanna be that girl. Except, like, not as a girl. Conceptually… the girl,” Richie flounders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You must have really enjoyed me punching the daylights out of Connor, then,” Eddie says, his mouth all too close to Richie’s ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah I really did,” Richie laughs, to avoid melting entirely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think get it,” Eddie says. “You’ve been told women are a prize to be won, but you want to be the prize.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie shivers. “Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you are,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My six-foot hairy self? You’d never fit me into a trophy case,” Richie teases.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And let you go untouched? I don’t think so,” Eddie responds seamlessly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie chuckles, trying not to blush. “I, uh…” he murmurs. “Yeah. That’s the mental image.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm?” Eddie says, cocking his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The… the way it is in movies,” Richie says. “After the hero finally wins the girl. If there’s a sex scene after it’s always, like… They fall into bed together and the hero’s touching the girl like he can’t believe his luck, and they kiss a lot and then they… they go all the way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All the way?” Eddie questions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anal,” Richie blurts. “I mean, not in movies, they’re probably not doing anal, but… That’s what… I want my first time to be… uh… anal. Not like, a blowjob or something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie sits up ever so slightly, looking amused. “Alright.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it?” Richie mutters, wanting the ground to swallow him up. “It’s, like, uh… complicated, right? For my first time?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you’ll be in good hands,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ooh,” Richie says, wriggling. He sobers. “I don’t know how to explain </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span> I want it to be… please don’t make me call it that again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie chuckles. “Anal?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s so unromantic!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, we’ll call it penetrative intercourse,” Eddie says solemnly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hate it when you’re the jokester.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie smiles. “You don’t have to explain it. Your first time can be whatever you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not now, though,” Richie says hurriedly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” Eddie says dryly. “I thought for </span>
  <em>
    <span>sure</span>
  </em>
  <span> you wanted me to fuck you in your cramped twin bed with your parents on the other side of the wall using petroleum jelly and expired condoms from your teenage drawer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not turned on by the thought of my parents hearing us getting it on?” Richie teases.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck off,” Eddie groans.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know if you wanted to roleplay Norman Bates…” Richie teases.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Starting to think you just have a thing for Norman Bates,” Eddie mutters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who, me? Never,” Richie says. He snuggles closer to Eddie. “Anyway, consider my request officially put in. When we do it, I want us to kiss and back up against the bed and then you lay me out and touch me all over like you just won me and I’m all yours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want me to take the lead and not ask a bunch of questions?” Eddie asks. “Like you mentioned on our first date?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie nods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. Would you like to top or bottom?” Eddie asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you topped,” Richie says, feeling a bit of panic at the sudden, unexpected variety.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a strong preference,” Eddie says. “If I had a choice between rocky road and strawberry ice cream, I’d always choose rocky road, but I wouldn’t say no to some strawberry ice cream with the man I love either.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I never fingered myself until I met you,” Richie blurts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie blinks at him, then laughs. “Richie, would you like to bottom?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe,” Richie mutters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, it’s going to be difficult, but I think we’ll be okay even if we do turn out to have compatible preferences,” Eddie teases.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought it would be weird to say after all this talk about me wanting to be the narrative lady figure!” Richie whines. “It’s not… I just… It’s a separate thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie laughs so hard he nearly falls off the bed. “You can bottom,” he says. “I promise I won’t confuse you for a lady.” He puts his hand on Richie’s cheek. “You may have noticed but I really enjoy the fact that you’re a man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, I enjoy the fact that you’re a man too,” Richie murmurs. “That said I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> entertained by the fact that you did drag. Why didn’t I hear about this sooner?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was just a couple of times,” Eddie groans.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I bet you were real good at it, too,” Richie says. “Catty little bitch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie shoves him. “Shut up, there’s so much more to drag queen culture than just being catty!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, wait, or did you only do it for the heels?” Richie gasps. “Oh, you wanted to feel tall!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up, that’s not why I did drag!” Eddie protests.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yeah, how tall were your heels?” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up,” Eddie mutters, and pulls him in for a tight hug.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>watch next chapter as i attempt to get all the losers into one room and then visibly get distracted from my intention multiple times</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>warnings for the chapter: mentions of sonia ft the weirdest antisemitic stereotype anyone has ever said to my face</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Good morning,” Richie says, looking dangerously amused.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie freezes, caught red handed. “This is not the worst thing I could be doing right now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, it’s very cute,” Richie says. “But, uh, babe, I don’t think you cleaning my parents’ oven at six in the morning is really giving the vibe you’re looking for.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He leans down and wraps his arms around Eddie’s middle to drag him away from the oven. “At least let me…” Eddie says, struggling to wipe the rack one more time as Richie wrestles him away. Eddie curses, kicking at him until he’s finally a safe distance from the oven and forced to engage in some self reflection.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Babe,” Richie says. “Babe, you’re good, just sit back, let me make breakfast, it’s okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie wants to kick his way out of his hold just for the sake of his pride, but Richie lays a hand on top of his head and nuzzles comfortingly at his neck, making it worth the emotional toll of being manhandled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So maybe he’s being a little weird.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He slowly goes limp, and Richie must be able to tell that that’s his </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh ok so I’ve been losing it a little </span>
  </em>
  <span>slump, because he stays there and curls around Eddie for a while longer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He gives him a little kiss on the side of the neck and gets up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie sighs, taking stock of how life has brought him to sitting on the floor, then gets up and leans against the counter while Richie starts loading up the coffee maker.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maggie joins them a moment later. “Are you making coffee?” she asks, yawning.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yep,” Richie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hm, yes, good son,” she says. “Eddie, how did you sleep?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just fine, ma’am,” Eddie says. Richie pinches him in the side.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re up early,” she says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We wanted to head out in time to get lunch at home,” Richie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hm,” she says, pouting. She has Richie’s pout. “Alright.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She claps a hand onto Eddie’s forearm. He tries not to make a weird noise. She has long, spindly fingers that grasp him in a tender, supportive way. “I am very glad you came, and I hope we didn’t scare you off. Rest assured, Went and I will be Googling a lot before your next visit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Christmas?” Richie jokes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s a good idea, you both can be cartoonishly gay and maybe we can give Grandpa Joe a heart attack,” she says. “We’ll see how many geezers we can take out in one go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie grins.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She pats Eddie’s arm again. Eddie is obsessed with it. The careless affection of it all. “No,” she says seriously, “I don’t want to subject either of you to that sort of thing on Christmas.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie feels like he lost the train of thought somewhere. He wants to go back to cleaning the oven, but Richie seems to sense that and put his leg up to block him from it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Richie says. “We’ll probably do a non-denominational Yuletide event with the roommates, so don’t worry, Eddie will be included in my holiday plans.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie doesn’t fully parse that, too busy glaring down the almost-clean oven and Richie’s traitorous shin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good,” Maggie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie takes a very deep breath and tries to take her considerate tone in stride. He thinks he does a fairly good job, but it’s ruined by Richie noticing his reaction and bursting into helpless giggles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>**</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie nonetheless manages to make it out of the Tozier household - with a lot of leftovers - without screaming just to stave off the extra emotion.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He can almost see freedom and a long day of simply laying on his floor and taking deep breaths when Went quietly ushers him to the side.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie glances at Richie, who seems to be in a long process of saying goodbye to Maggie which includes Maggie reminding him of all the chores he has to do in the next month.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Went, gruff but apologetic, murmurs, “Now, I am very sorry I jumped to conclusions about you.” Eddie clears his throat and nods. “You seem to be very good for Richie, from what I can see.” He puts his hands on his hips. Eddie has only seen someone be such a Dad on TV. “But Richie is our only kid and we happen to like him, so you understand I have to say this: if you hurt him, you’ll be hearing from me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yessir, I know,” Eddie replies.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Went shuffles awkwardly. “Is that, ah, whaddya call it, het-ero-normative?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie swallows down a smile. “Did you get a jump start on the Googling?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Went grunts at him. “Couldn’t get to sleep.” He sighs, relenting. “Richie doesn’t show it when he’s scared very often. Most we ever saw of it was when some idiot clown scared the hell out of him at a birthday party and he had nightmares for weeks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie smiles. For some reason he can’t figure out, his hands are shaking. “Really?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, rattled me then too,” Went says. “He’d keep shouting for us to check his closet and after a while </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> started having nightmares he was actually in danger.” He pauses. “Don’t tell him that.” Eddie nods, a little nauseated by the fact that he’s definitely going to. “Point is, I don’t like to see him scared. Couldn’t sleep thinking I’d done it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie is beyond emotional. “Well, I think you’re okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Went acknowledges him with a sharp nod, looking uncomfortable. He pats Eddie on the shoulder. “You seem like a good kid.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Eddie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, alright, break it up here, folks, break it up,” Richie says in an awful announcer voice. He hugs Went, leaving Eddie free for a hug from Maggie. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You drive safe now,” she says, squeezing him tight. He wants to run. He wants to stay forever. “Tell Richie what you’d like for Christmas, we’re big gift givers.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s not necessary,” Eddie tries.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nonsense,” Maggie says. “You’re part of the family now, if you want out you’re going to have to gnaw your own leg off.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie is not going to make it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie throws an arm around him. Eddie’s knees wobble. “Alright, alright, you’ve had your fill, he’s all mine now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maggie blows him kisses as he steers Eddie away and shoves him into the car.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie pulls out of the driveway and drives a few blocks down and turns a corner before pulling over to breathe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie reaches over to squeeze his thigh. “You gonna pull through there, little guy?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mhmm,” Eddie manages to choke out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” Richie says, shifting to look at him. “Are you alright? It’s okay if you’re not.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m okay,” Eddie croaks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks for getting me through that,” Richie says softly. “It wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought it would be, but I wouldn’t have been able to do it without you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good,” Eddie says. Richie’s hand settles on his back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How can I help you back?” Richie asks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie scrubs his hands over his face. After years of trying, he’s still not good at sorting out his emotions. Anger, hunger, guilt, desperation, desire and nostalgia all roll into one big mass. “I don’t know,” he says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie says quiet for a long time, letting Eddie try to untangle the bits and pieces of his emotions out of a distant ball of vibrating yarn. “Want me to drive?” he asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck you, you’re not driving my car,” Eddie snaps.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie grins, and Eddie has to laugh, even as tense as he is.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He takes a few more deep breaths and starts the car again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie smiles and tenderly hooks a finger into Eddie’s belt loop as he shifts to look out the window. “Oh, hey, I spy with my little eye…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>**</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>SOS SOS SOS URGENT EDS URGENT, </em>
  </b>
  <span>Richie texts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie is pretty sure he wouldn’t text like that in an emergency, but he still nearly breaks his skull on the side of the car he’s been working under in his hurry to answer, anxiety spiking. </span>
  <b>
    <em>What?!</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>sry but ben! ben is coming for hanukmas, </em>
  </b>
  <span>Richie replies.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie sighs. </span>
  <b>
    <em>Hanukmas?</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>not stan approved but cmon it’s fun to say right? anyway ur coming right??? next weekend??</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie frowns. </span>
  <b>
    <em>Of course I am. You told your mom I’d definitely be coming.</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>well yeah but i thought maybe you just went with it to seduce them, yknow? </em>
  </b>
  <span>Before Eddie can take issue with that, Richie amends, </span>
  <b>
    <em>ok not really but i didn’t actually ask you. you can bring bill, too, and mike, see if stan’s head explodes.</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>Don’t think I’ve forgotten that you implied I wouldn’t want to celebrate the holidays with you, mister.</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>ooh am i in trouble</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>Yeah I’m gonna squish the hell out of you</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>my place or yours? ;)</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie rolls his eyes and snorts. </span>
  <b>
    <em>Yours. I’d hate to make you miss any drama.</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>yessss ily</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He puts his phone away and tries to make sense of how he’s feeling. No answer becomes apparent, so he simply goes back to work.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>**</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It takes a few days for Eddie to decide he might be nervous about this.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s gotten so used to spending Christmas alone, and while this is technically not Christmas in date </span>
  <em>
    <span>or</span>
  </em>
  <span> in name, it’s the closest he’s gotten to it in five years. (He has a standing invitation to Bill’s, of course, but he doesn’t feel good about crashing their already awkward family get-togethers.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s pretty sure he’s supposed to bring a gift. He has a vague recollection of memories absorbed by pop culture osmosis, of people bringing a casserole to this sort of thing. He does some research on casseroles, then a lot of research on what counts as kosher, then finds himself despondently roaming the aisles of the grocery store for something that says “non-denominational holiday party with your boyfriend’s roommates and your childhood friend and his boyfriend.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s stumped. He hates being stumped, hates feeling lost and confused in the world. He briefly imagines Maggie and Went’s reaction to seeing him this lost in a grocery store, bested by a theoretical casserole, and that’s what finally makes it all click.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sits down on the floor and calls Richie.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think I’m having a breakdown,” he says. This is news to him, too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Richie says. “Like for real or hyperbolically?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie realizes belatedly that it’s the first one. “I’m sitting on a grocery store floor in a soup aisle.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh man that floor is so gross dude, why are you doing that?” Richie asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Um,” Eddie says, pressing his head to the cool metal of the shelf and taking measured breaths. “I don’t think I’ve ever celebrated Christmas.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Once again, Eddie, you have to understand that in order for me to follow your thought process, you need to include intermediate steps,” Richie says, albeit gently.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think I was freaking out about your parents and now you’re inviting me to Christmas, which isn’t Christmas, and I was, like, trying to think of a gift to bring to the party and I was like, well, food, right? Food is what you take to big family get togethers, right? But I don’t even know what simple Christmas is like, much less - uh - all-inclusive holiday get-togethers,” Eddie says, all in one breath with no sign of stopping. “I think my mom told me Jewish people have horns? Like honest-to-god horns, and I don’t know why that didn’t trip any red flags earlier, but there’s so much shit she’s said that I don’t always get to the worst of it until suddenly it occurs to me and I’m like holy shit that was vile! Anyway, I couldn’t figure out  a Christmas food so I thought, like, soup, but I don’t know what’s kosher and I just sat down in the middle of it because I needed to call you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I feel like I should have interrupted you, but the rate at which you can speak is just really fascinating, I’m sorry,” Richie says. “Which grocery store? I can come get you. I’ll take an Uber and you can drive home.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t realize that this was a problem,” Eddie says. “I swear I don’t mean to turn heel and say, no, actually, I’ve been upset for like two weeks, I just don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>notice.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s fine, man, just gimme an address for the Uber guy,” Richie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, okay,” Eddie says. “It’s on 33rd and 4th.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>**</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So what was Christmas like with your mom?” Richie asks. “Just, you know, for context.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, well, Christmas trees are pagan, I was supposedly allergic to most foods and Santa was a little suspicious,” Eddie says. “I’d just, you know, sit next to my mom eating tapioca pudding, bundled in all the warm clothes she’d given me for Christmas even though, frankly, I run hot, and we’d watch weird, awful dogmatic Christmas cartoons for twelve hours.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Twelve?” Richie asks, horrified.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, and if I tried to leave early, she’d start bawling,” Eddie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, ew,” Richie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She’d cry when she got scared I might not listen to her,” Eddie says. “I still don’t have the heart to be sure she was faking.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Aw, hun,” Richie says, leaning over and squeezing Eddie’s thigh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I, uh,” Eddie says, trying to untangle what the </span>
  <em>
    <span>hell</span>
  </em>
  <span> is going on in his brain. “I think I just… snapped into parent-pleasing mode, which I then extended out into friend-pleasing mode and I didn’t notice until I was literally calling you on the verge of tears about soup.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, well, it’s not a Christmas party, if that helps,” Richie says. “There’s gonna be at most eight people at that party and two are Jewish and two are chock full of childhood trauma so it’s absolutely not even a little bit of a Christmas party. It’s just a December party because December is cold and a little cozy and it’s good for food-heavy gatherings with people you </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> like. That’s why everyone has their holidays in December, because it’s a nice time to just snuggle up with a blanket and some loved ones.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie takes a deep breath. “Right.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie pats Eddie’s knee. “It’s fine. Drop parent-pleasing mode, drop friend-pleasing mode. Let me run you through what’s gonna happen at this party, okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie takes a deep breath. He hadn’t realized how panicked he was until now, when Richie’s hand on his thigh feels like a cool rush of air through his body. “Okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m gonna cook, like, a crazy amount of food,” Richie says. “If you brought a shitty casserole, it would be immediately thrown away because I am gonna go hogwild, okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good to know,” Eddie mutters.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stan is going to clean everything and rearrange all the knickknacks and mismatched plates in our house in a way that only makes sense to him, and then when he’s satisfied he’s going to lie in wait for Bev’s boyfriend,” Richie says. “I’m gonna warm up some wine on the stove with spices--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I am genuinely allergic to cinnamon,” Eddie mutters.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bummer,” Richie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can have a little but I get a headache and sneezy,” Eddie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, nutmeg and cloves,” Richie says. “Point is, we’re gonna sit around with mugs of mulled wine and we’re gonna watch Stan attempt to frighten the living daylights out of this dude who by all accounts is extremely nice. Then, after we’re all a little buzzed, we’re gonna whip out the board games and we’re gonna have so much fun and you can only play one of each game we have before you’re gonna have to sit back and be on a team with me because I know you and your cheating, competitive ways.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie nods. “Yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And maybe, if we’re lucky, Stan will attempt to fight a man,” Richie says. “Which will be great because Stan is a gentle soul and he does not know how to fight.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie lets out a breath that somehow carries days of panic he hadn’t fucking noticed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Better?” Richie asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Eddie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good,” Richie says. “Are you going to burn those pants when we get home?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No but I’m stripping the second we get in the door and putting everything in the laundry,” Eddie says. “I can’t believe I sat down on a public floor.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” Richie says, “I know you said you didn’t realize this was eating away at you, but even if something’s just, like, medium bad you can tell me, you know that, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Eddie says. “It’s just… I don’t really do medium bad. I go from fine to catastrophe and I don’t even notice half the time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” Richie says. “It’s okay. I’ll try to learn the warning signs.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t have to put that on yourself,” Eddie says. “It’s okay. You got there really fast when it hit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie smiles, looking very pleased with himself. “You feel better now?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie nods. “Yeah, I do.” He smiles to himself. “I like how you do that. You’re never too serious or too careful. I don’t feel smothered with you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie grins. “Stop it, I’m gonna blush.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean it!” Eddie protests. “I do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie smiles, bashful. “Okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie doesn’t know whether to feel overwhelmingly emotional, blissfully content or unbelievably horny. He settles for all three.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>**</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, let’s see it,” Richie says the second they’re inside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie blinks at him as he pieces together what he means.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie blinks back, seeming just as surprised.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait, for real?” Eddie asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie stares at him. “Yes?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean,” Eddie says. “Uh.” Richie has yet to ask to see him naked and he’s not sure what it means that he is now. He’s not prepared to take Richie’s virginity right here and now. He hasn’t put nearly enough thought into it yet and he’s distracted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We could…” Richie says, then loses his nerve, shaking his head. “Nevermind. I was kidding.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” Eddie says softly. “We could what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cuddle,” Richie blurts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie takes a moment to process that. “Oh,” he says. “Okay. Yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie nods, uncomfortable, for a moment too long.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie undoes his belt and drops his pants. Then, under Richie’s wide-eyed stare, he unbuttons his shirt, drops that too, and shimmies out of his boxers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie lets out a strangled sound, eyes wide enough that Eddie worries they might pop right out of his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like what you see?” Eddie asks. He doesn’t generally feel anxiety about his body - it takes work and careful intent to look like he does, and he knows people know that. Still, he wants some kind of clear reaction from Richie.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Haajjrmph?” Richie manages.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie bursts out laughing. “Are you gonna join me?” he asks, scooping up his clothes gingerly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“When you look like </span>
  <em>
    <span>that?</span>
  </em>
  <span> No, dude, I’m gonna wrap myself in so many layers I’m gonna look like the Stay Puffed Marshmallow Man,” Richie says. “What the fuck?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is this your first time seeing a naked dude?” Eddie teases.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Richie says. “Kinda. Maybe. You know, without peeking out through my fingers.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really?” Eddie asks. “You watch porn like it’s a horror movie?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m gonna be real with you, I’ve never watched porn,” Richie admits.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> watched porn,” Eddie repeats.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It stresses me out!” Richie whines. “What if they don’t wanna be there! There are days when I </span>
  <em>
    <span>hate</span>
  </em>
  <span> being on set with </span>
  <em>
    <span>every</span>
  </em>
  <span> fiber of my being, can you imagine if I had to have sex like that? The first time I opened up PornHub I immediately had to Google what percentage of porn stars actually like their job.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What did you find?” Eddie asks, fascinated.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, some people enjoy being porn stars but the industry is a </span>
  <em>
    <span>horrifying </span>
  </em>
  <span>mess,” Richie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie wants to ask more, but catches himself just in time. He waves his hands to clear the air. “How do you always get me so intensely off topic? Take your clothes off so I can be horny over you from a respectful distance.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You are actually the easiest person on the planet to get off topic,” Richie says as he shrugs off his coat, hangs it up, then slips out of his shirt. “You’ll literally follow the flow of conversation anywhere. It’s oddly comforting.” He hesitates, hands worrying over his waistline.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut the fuck up and drop your pants,” Eddie grumbles. Then, worried that Richie won’t recognize it as banter, he adds, “If you want.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie takes a deep breath, then shoves down his pants and boxers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie takes him in. It’s not like he hasn’t seen most of it before, but this is different. He’s allowed to look, for one, and Richie’s fully naked now, too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wants to say something reassuring to Richie, but he’s not sure how to verbalize the comfort he takes in this entire moment. “Nice,” he says, lamely.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie laughs so hard he has to lower himself to the floor and cry on his hands and knees, which is trying for a multitude of reasons.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie drags him back up, walking him to the bedroom. Richie giggles the whole way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright,” Eddie says, bouncing back onto the bed. “Come here. How do you wanna do this?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uhhh,” Richie says. “I’d like to be the little spoon maybe?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie tries not to groan over the fact that that’s going to put Eddie’s naked dick against Richie’s naked back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie notices anyway, and grins. “What? Can’t handle it?” he asks, crawling onto the bed with Eddie.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can,” Eddie says. “Can I touch you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Richie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie drags him in for a kiss, dragging his palms up Richie’s back. “You’re so perfect,” he murmurs, rolling them over.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie grins. “Yeah?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Eddie says, leaning over him to kiss him again, hard and indulgent, before settling down beside him and nudging him onto his side.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pulls Richie back against him, his half-hard dick slotting into the dip of Richie’s ass. Richie gasps.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Eddie murmurs, moving to shift up a little.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nono, it can stay!” Richie blurts. “It can… we can stay like that. If it’s cool with you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie stops moving. He settles, letting his dick rest comfortably against Richie’s cheeks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie giggles. “This is so weird dude.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie presses his face between Richie’s shoulder blades. “Yeah, but I like it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hears Richie’s giggling get soft. “Yeah,” he replies. “Me too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie pulls him closer and relaxes into the skin of his back. He’s never wanted to be anywhere more than he wants to be here.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie starts giggling, and Eddie has to follow suit until his ribs hurt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>**</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie gives Bill and Mike a ride to Richie’s place on the day of the party, which gives him the opportunity to receive a barrage of worried and amused glances (respectively).</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pulls up in front of the building and tries to remember he’s only seeing Richie. Not grandparents or aunts and uncles who will tutt at him sympathetically because they know he’s his mother’s plaything but don’t care enough to do anything about it. (After all, at least she’s raising him to be a good Christian boy.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Ha,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thinks, </span>
  <em>
    <span>take that, dead relatives.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He grabs the bottle of wine he’d landed on for general hospitality purposes, then leads Mike and Bill up the stairs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Patty opens the door in reindeer antlers and a red and green pine tree sweater with large Hebrew letters stitched into the front.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mike starts laughing. “That’s an </span>
  <em>
    <span>excellent </span>
  </em>
  <span>sweater.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, thank you,” Patty says. “You speak Hebrew?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I read it,” Mike says. He nods at her sweater. “It’s very funny.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She beams. “I kept getting mistaken as Christian when wearing this sweater - horrifying, I know - so I wanted to explain that these are </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jewish</span>
  </em>
  <span> pine trees,” she says solemnly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait, so what’s it say?” Bill asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“These are Jewish pine trees,” Mike says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bit by bit I will chip away at the Christian monopoly on winter imagery,” Patty says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mike laughs, making Patty smile, and that seems to decide that they’re friends now. Bill looks on in confusion.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I brought wine,” Eddie interjects.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ohhh, perfect,” she says, stepping aside to let them in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We didn’t bring an-anything,” Bill says. “Eddie said it was c-casual get together.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, don’t worry,” she says. “You don’t know us yet, and Stanley is absolutely going to be furious at you for not being a proper nemesis, so I’d feel bad if you brought us a gift.” She holds her hand out for his coat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” Bill says, handing it to her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wow, you really </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> very short,” she murmurs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mike grins and leans over Bill’s shoulder to extend his hand. “I’m Mike, Bill’s boyfriend.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Patty,” she says. “You’re extremely tall. How do you two reach each other? Do you have to lift him up?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I bend down,” Mike says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, your poor back,” she replies.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie stares at her. She’s so incredibly innocent looking, but there is absolutely no way she’s not mocking Bill on purpose.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She steps aside. “Anyway, come in, make yourselves at home!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mike seems to be fine doing just that and dragging Bill along with himself, so Eddie leaves them to it. He rounds the wall into the kitchen to find Richie holding a pot in one hand, a frying pan in the other and trying to open the oven with his knee.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stan sighs wearily as Eddie enters. “Oh good, Eddie. Remove him from the kitchen before he gets heat exhaustion.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie snorts and pulls the pan out of Richie’s hand. “What’s in the oven?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Chestnuts!” Richie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can take them out when they’re ready,” Stan says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nooo,” Richie whines. “You don’t know what to look for.” He sticks a spoon in Eddie’s face. “Does this taste right to you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie licks it hesitantly. It’s some kind of gravy, and it tastes great. “It’s good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah? Because it feels like it needs some more thyme or possibly pepper…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie removes the spoon from his hand, turns off the stove and grabs his arm to drag him away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sits him down on the couch next to Patty and Mike, who seem to have jumped right into an in-depth discussion of archival systems. Bill seems lost, but he leans into Mike and quietly takes in the apartment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie sits down next to Patty, then hauls Richie into his lap. Richie makes a strangled noise, then giggles. “What’s this?” he asks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Making sure you don’t jump up and try to keep cooking,” Eddie says, stroking his hair. This also makes him feel a little sheltered from the rest of the world, which serves as a good reminder that he doesn’t have to slide into rampant defensive perfectionism.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie seems to unconsciously understand this, because he gets one arm around Eddie and rests against him, chin on his head until Eddie relaxes his shoulders.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stan joins them a moment later. “The food is all done now,” he says. “So Richie can rest easy.” He looks over at Bill with a chilly, “Denbrough.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“H-Hi Stan?” Bill asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stan takes note of Mike and Patty’s animated chatter (Eddie can’t follow what they’re talking about. Possibly the ethics of museums) and quickly tries to hide his satisfaction. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Aw, poor Stan, having to let go of his Bill crusade and meet the real boyfriend at once,” Richie whispers into Eddie’s ear.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie laughs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie is heavy on top of him, squeezing his chest a little, but it’s oddly comfortable, even if his legs are liable to fall asleep any moment now. Richie is warm and he rests his cheek against Eddie’s head, letting Eddie listen to his breathing and the little chuckles that catch in his throat at everything.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door opens and Bev slips inside. “Alright, everyone be nice!” she insists.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stan scowls at her. “I will be if he is,” he mutters.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Patty stops in the middle of a long tangent about what makes a museum qualified to assert themselves as the best caretakers of a collection to declare, “Liar!” She then turns back to Mike to continue, “Obviously the British Museum’s assertion that they are best suited to preserve the artifacts of cultures who have asked for their looted possessions back is a product of racist colonization, but how do we ensure that cultures who lack the resources for preservation due to colonialism have a chance to restore that imbalance?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s a good point, but on the other hand, if we demand that countries reach the same prosperity as colonial superpowers before returning cultural artifacts that rightfully belong to them, aren’t we setting up a self-reinforcing cycle?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, of course,” Patty says. “But…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie shushes them, gesturing at the door, and they drop to a whisper as they continue the discussion.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bev ushers Ben inside, showing him off with a small </span>
  <em>
    <span>ta-da!</span>
  </em>
  <span> gesture.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie immediately starts giggling, frantically hiding his face in Eddie’s neck to stifle it. Stan is visibly contemplating his options with a feverish glower.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He could snap Stan in half,” Richie wheezes directly into Eddie’s ear.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It seems to be true.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ben is at least Richie’s height, but he makes Richie seem downright slender. He’s built like an olympic weightlifter, massive arm muscles and barrel chest. He makes Bev seem tiny.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bev taps his shoulder, drawing a nervous look from him. “Let me introduce you to everyone. That’s Bill, who I was never dating,” she starts. Bill sighs, but he waves anyway. “That’s Mike and Patty having the hushed conversation there, you love to see it. Eddie’s down there under Richie somewhere, Richie’s the one laughing his ass off, and Stan.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stan narrows his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” Ben says. “I, um, got you something?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stan’s eye twitches.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t worry, it’s not bribery or anything, but Bev talks about you a lot,” Ben says. He’s soft spoken and earnest. Stan scowls harder. Richie chokes a cross between a giggle and a sob into Eddie’s neck. “I just thought you might like it and I know you’ve been worrying a lot about Bev because of me so I wanted to make it up to you a little.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He reaches into the bag at his side and hands Stan a box.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stan stares at it. Eventually, he clears his throat, making every effort in the world to appear unaffected. “Thank you,” he says, emotionless.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Patty finally trails off from her rant about cultural looting to look at Stan. “What is it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s nothing,” Stan says, trying to slip it under his chair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nooo!” she cries, sliding across the floor to snatch it out from under the chair while Stan attempts to block her with his leg. “Oh, Ben, this is so thoughtful, thank you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She holds it up so Richie can see.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s a clock with birds instead of numbers. Richie curls in on himself with weeping laughter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s nice,” Stan says, clearing his throat again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s perfect,” Patty says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I got something for you too,” Ben says, quickly grabbing an aloe vera plant from his bag. “Bev says you’ve had bad luck with plants, so I got you something that’s very hard to kill, and if you’d like I’m happy to offer advice if it starts looking peaked.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh I love him,” Patty says, taking the plant affectionately.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I usually call him Ribbit,” Ben says. “He just has a froggy air to him, you know?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Patty looks like she might cry. “I do know,” she manages. “I like you so much better than Bill.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I n-never even dated Bev!” Bill cries, finally reaching the end of his rope.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, I know, hun,” Patty says. “But I have to support Stan and to be honest, I just really don’t like your movies.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mike bursts out laughing, putting a comforting arm around Bill, who throws his hands up despondently, then accepts it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, um, thank you,” Ben says. “And, uh, Richie…” He leans over to hand Richie a box as well.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Inside there’s a t-shirt reading RUN FLORIST RUN with a variety of roses around it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s a re-gift, actually,” Ben says, awkwardly. “I don’t… get it. I thought you might. Even though it’ll probably be a little big on you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love it,” Richie says, in tears, wheezing with every giggle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie pulls him in close, squeezing until he regains his breath a little.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And I have a gift for Bill,” Bev says, handing over a small, flat box.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bill eases the top off. There’s a pen, a jar of olives and a book. Bill tugs a note out from between them. “‘We appreciate your r-role as a safety nemesis while Stanley worked through h-his justified anxiety about m-me d-dating again, love Bev,’” he reads. Mike huffs out a small laugh, ruffling Bill’s hair tenderly. “Oh. W-Well in that case… y-you’re welcome?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bev throws an arm around Stan. “I’m glad you’re trying to look out for me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are we done?” Stan asks, gingerly hugging her back with an arm around her shoulders.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, we are,” Bev says. “No more teasing Stan or Bill, guys.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> tease Stan?” Patty asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please don’t,” Stan says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” she says, kissing the top of his head. She skids back to Mike’s side. “What do you think about online exhibits?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, well, I think they’re great for accessibility,” Mike says, and they’re off again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m gonna get everyone some mulled wine!” Richie shouts, darting into the kitchen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>**</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They end up playing one game of Ticket to Ride before Eddie does, in fact, attempt to justify his allegedly rule-breaking actions and ends up banned to being Richie’s chair and partner in crime. Richie brings out meal after meal for them to snack on while playing, and each dish is better than the last.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie has never had this kind of holiday celebration. He’s pleasantly squished under Richie’s warm back, a little wine drunk and absolutely stuffed. Everyone is laughing and happy and respectful.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s so happy he almost feels like he needs to run, if only to have a moment to process it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He excuses himself to go to the bathroom, extracting himself from under Richie, who is currently losing it at his own incomprehensible joke while Bill insists he has to be funny for the rest of them to laugh and Stan mourns his lost animosity towards Bill.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He ends up in the hallway, head against the cool wall, just breathing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You good?” Bev asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He startles. “Oh. Yeah. I’m really good, actually, it’s just a lot,” Eddie says. “I’m trying to… chill and then get back to it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sounds like a good idea,” Bev says. She pulls a book from behind her back. “I don’t know if you’ve read this one, but it’s really good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie looks at the cover. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Toxic Parents: Overcoming Their Hurtful Legacy and Reclaiming Your Life,</span>
  </em>
  <span> it reads. “Oh,” he says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s probably all stuff you’ve already been working on for years,” Bev says. “But it’s nice to have it condensed all into one book and it’s really clear, concise writing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Eddie says. “Thank you. Seriously.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smiles at him. “No problem. I’ll leave you to reboot.” She gives him a teasing salute and backs away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie leans against the wall, book in hand, and breathes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a while, Richie finds him. “Hi,” he says. “Starting to worry you were dead.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, just processing my happiness,” Eddie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie grins. “As long as it’s happiness,” he says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie pulls him in to kiss him. “Thanks for inviting me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No problem!” Richie chirps.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I mean…” Eddie says, sighing. “Thanks for being a part of my life. Thanks for getting me and loving me and being you. Thanks for… I don’t know, sitting in my lap the whole time so I can just…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie nods solemnly. “Just vibe,” he says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie snorts. “Yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No problem,” Richie says. “Ditto.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie smiles and pulls him in for a kiss. He pulls Richie as close as he can, cupping the back of his neck and pushing their lips together like they could meld together if they really wanted to.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie pulls back. “So if I said I wanna do it right now in my room where our friends might overhear…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d say you’re too drunk to think about having sex,” Eddie murmurs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hm,” Richie says. “Good thinking.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie kisses him, hard, until Richie’s pulling away again. He bites his lip, nervous. “What?” Eddie asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The next time we’re alone and sober, though, I think I’m ready,” Richie says. “And I didn’t think of this while wine tipsy, don’t worry, I just… I feel nice and surrounded by friends and I wanna say it now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Eddie says. He has too many feelings to put into words. “Cool.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cool,” Richie murmurs, smiling like he knows what Eddie meant.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stan shuffles into the hallway. “Are we all here to process tonight?” he asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie’s heart is still hammering in his chest at the enormity of Richie feeling ready for sex. Sex with Eddie. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>trusts</span>
  </em>
  <span> Eddie. He feels </span>
  <em>
    <span>safe</span>
  </em>
  <span> enough to want Eddie to be his first, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>soon.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, yeah, how’s it going?” Richie asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Um,” Stan says. “Well, Ben is great. He’s kind and extremely gentle with Bev and he clearly loves her so much. Bill is actually very bearable, which is good because Patty and Mike seem to be best friends now, so we’re going to be seeing each other a lot. So… I feel a little silly, and kind of relieved that my two best friends are actually very happy, and… terrified that you’re both going to move out any time now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie extracts himself from Eddie’s embrace to wrap his arms around Stan instead, just in time for Stan to start crying.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie stands beside them awkwardly, not sure what to do. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t worry, all the best holiday parties have a little crying,” Richie assures him. “We’ve all got a lot of feelings. Go take my place in Catan and cheat your little heart out, okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Eddie says. He hesitates. “About what we talked about…?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can sleep over here tonight,” Richie says, rubbing Stan’s back. “And then we can plan a time in the morning over leftover omelette food crimes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie nods. He pats Stan on the shoulder. “Feel better soon.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stan nods back, clinging to Richie.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie shuffles back to find Bill has finally found his way into Mike and Patty’s conversation, even if he does seem to be in the midst of lightly getting dogpiled by them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You good?” Bev asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Eddie says. “Uh, Stan and Richie…” He doesn’t know if he’s supposed to cover for them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, Stan cries at every good party, it’s how you know he’s enjoying himself,” Patty says. “He runs out of energy and then he gets anxious. Don’t worry about it. Richie knows the protocol.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We c-can leave if you want,” Bill offers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nooo, I’m enjoying this,” Patty says. “Oh, and I want to show Mike something from our museum collection, come on.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She takes Mike’s hand and drags him away. Bev yawns and leans back against Ben, leaving Eddie to sit beside Bill.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Y-You’ve found a nice place for yourself here,” Bill murmurs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie blinks at him. “Yeah, I have.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, y-you’ve always been good at finding your w-way,” Bill says. “S-Sooner or later.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie smiles hesitantly, blinking away tears. “Thanks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And you f-found Mike a new friend,” Bill laughs. “So that’s nice.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think they like you too,” Eddie says. “It’d probably do you some good to have friends who aren’t essentially your little brother.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bill barks out a laugh. “Yeah, o-okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie sighs and melts into the couch. “Anyway, I think I might go into a coma after this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, m-me too, I am never eating again,” Bill says.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i tried to make it clear with only a few snippets of conversation but this is a very important issue and i just want everyone to be clear where i stand: fuck the british museum</p>
<p>anyway next week i get to post only a few days away from my birthday and as a celebration how about an entire chapter of smut :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>warnings: it's smut beginning to end, babey!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“So how’s Stan?” Eddie asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, he’ll be okay,” Richie says. There had been plenty of crying once it was just him, Bev, Patty and Stan, but it was cathartic, loving crying. “I reassured him we’re not moving out just yet. Bev says she’d actually rather Ben moved in with us first and that helped. I’m also making a group chat with everyone who was at the party so it feels less like we’re being handed off to strangers, so he feels a lot better about it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie hesitates. He looks like he wants to ask if the thought of Richie moving in with him came up, but he doesn’t. Richie is glad. It </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> come up - it had come up very seriously, but Richie thinks it might be a question for another day. There’s enough happening today.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anyway, I don’t think today is a </span>
  <em>
    <span>talk about our best friends outside of each other </span>
  </em>
  <span>day</span>
  <em>
    <span>, </span>
  </em>
  <span>is it?” Richie asks, chuckling nervously.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Eddie says. “You still feel good about this sober?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Richie breathes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They stand there for a moment, both frozen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie finally reaches out and takes his wrist, gently tugging him in for a kiss.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie melts into it, hands coming up to frame Eddie’s face, fingers skimming his hair. He’s not quite brave enough to hold Eddie’s face in his hands. He quivers a little when Eddie cups his cheek firmly and pulls him closer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie breaks their lips apart. “You’re sure?” he asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie nods, breath hitching a little.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can opt out any time for any reason,” Eddie reminds him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” Richie says. “I trust you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That puts a glint into Eddie’s eye. “Okay,” he says, pulling Richie back in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His hands roam over Richie’s back, firm, hungry, tender. He pulls him in tightly, then starts to walk, leading Richie with him. Richie just has to mirror his footsteps while Eddie steers them into the hall.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He presses Richie against the wall there, hard enough to feel fiery and passionate but not hard enough to hurt, his hand spread between Richie’s shoulder blades to pad his fall.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He breaks away from Richie’s lips to latch on to his neck, kissing up behind his jaw and ear with a hot, smooth rhythm. Richie’s knees wobble and he nearly cries then and there. This is exactly what he wanted, Eddie’s lips on him like there’s no place he’d rather be, like every taste he gets of Richie is a gift.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie whines. He wants this. God, he’s wanted this so long. He’s wanted it so long it’s seeped into his bones. He’s 1% man and 99% </span>
  <em>
    <span>want.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“God, god, I can’t,” Richie breathes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie stops. “Want to stop?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No!” Richie shouts, then - sheepishly - explains, “I mean I want this </span>
  <em>
    <span>now. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Hallway time over please?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie laughs. “Alright.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He kisses Richie just a little longer against the wall, until Richie squirms and whines, and then he pulls him away and waltzes him to the bedroom.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His lips move against Richie, one arm keeping Richie close so he can steer him and the other bracing his head so he falls smoothly when Eddie backs him against the bed and pushes him back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie breaks away, crawling up the bed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie grasps at him absently, just wanting to touch anywhere, for any reason, whatever he can get his hands on.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie kneels over him, then slides his hands under Richie’s armpits and drags him up the bed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” Richie breathes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, you like that,” Eddie says, with such a softness in his voice and his eyes that Richie nearly explodes in a swell of emotion.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” Richie breathes again, with even more feeling this time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie smiles and leans down to kiss his neck some more, the other side now. He tugs down his collar to kiss there too, across the collarbones and into the dip of his shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie shudders, grabbing absently at Eddie just plead for more. More kissing, more touching, more proof that Eddie </span>
  <em>
    <span>wants</span>
  </em>
  <span> him. Wants </span>
  <em>
    <span>him.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie is making that clear enough, sweeping his mouth over Richie’s collarbone so his bottom lip drags against it. It’s a lustful movement that Eddie laces together with his hand on Richie’s head, thumbing gently at his head, making it clear that he doesn’t just want </span>
  <em>
    <span>this,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he wants </span>
  <em>
    <span>Richie. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He </span>
  <em>
    <span>wants</span>
  </em>
  <span> Richie </span>
  <em>
    <span>desperately.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>fight</span>
  </em>
  <span> for Richie.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Want me to pretend I’ve just fought off a guy twice my size for you?” Eddie whispers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie lets out a garbled noise that’s mostly a sob. “No,” he says. “No you’re getting the gist of it already.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie laughs softly, petting his hair. “Are you alright?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mmmhmm,” Richie squeaks, trying not to cry. “Holy fuck, holy fuck you </span>
  <em>
    <span>want </span>
  </em>
  <span>me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Eddie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>want me,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Richie repeats, one more time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes I do,” Eddie says. “Intensely.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He leans over Richie and kisses him, holding Richie’s face in his hands as he does. Tugs up Richie’s shirt, pulling it off and then returning to kiss over his shoulders, neck, arms, as he unbuttons and discards his own shirt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He keeps going, methodical and intent, kissing down Richie’s side and up to his hip bones as he gets his pants off. He breaks away for a bit to remove his own pants, but that just leaves him perched above Richie, smiling down at him like he’s the luckiest guy on earth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie doesn’t know how to break it to him that actually Richie is the luckiest guy on earth, gazing up at Eddie, soft, strong, fully naked Eddie, while Eddie looks at him like that, like Richie’s…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Goddamn it, like Richie’s a </span>
  <em>
    <span>prize.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Like Richie’s as desirable as he always secretly wanted to be, hidden and guilty because he’d always thought it wasn’t possible, not for him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie discards his pants, then returns to lean over Richie. He presses him down onto the bed, hands firm on his shoulders. “Face up or face down?” he asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie breathes out a shuddering sigh. He wants to do it in any way. All the ways.“You’re the expert, man, you tell me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I want to make this as good for you as possible,” Eddie says. “Work with me here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He cups Richie’s face in his hands and tilts his head up. Richie feels like he’s in a dream. A really great dream. “I really don’t know, man. I want everything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Face down you’ll have more leverage,” Eddie says. “Face up I can see your face.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So,” Richie says, “you’ll take care of it, is what you’re saying.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie smiles. “I’ll be talking to you the whole time either way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where’s this fall on the no Domming statute?” Richie asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie puts his hands on Richie’s shoulders. “Don’t worry about that. Ask for anything you like. It’s likely that I’ll be taking the lead, since I like it better and I’m more experienced. I’m not worried about it. And if you’re not okay and a safeword occurs to you before full sentences, obviously I’ll listen to that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Domming lite,” Richie says weakly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s no rules,” Eddie says gently. “Anything you want, let me know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie chews his lip. “I wanna be face up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Eddie says. “Move a little further up?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie shuffles up the bed, and Eddie goes with him. He grabs a pillow and slides it under Richie’s ass. Richie’s soul leaves his body a little bit. His hips are just… up there. Angled into Eddie’s face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie smiles, rubbing his hands over Richie’s legs. “You look good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Richie manages. He’s so damn close to crying it’s ridiculous.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you still okay?” Eddie asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mhmm,” Richie says, blinking away tears.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure?” Eddie presses.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah, I’m overwhelmed but I’m good,” Richie says. “Honest to god.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie nods, kneading his thumbs into the inside of Richie’s thighs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, fuck,” Richie manages.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie chuckles, lifting Richie’s feet onto the bed and spreading his legs. “I’ve thought of this a lot,” he says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is it everything you’ve dreamed of?” Richie teases.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Better,” Eddie says. “You get so soft when I’m gentle with you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie wants to melt and pool out of Eddie’s bed and through the cracks in his floorboards. He hasn’t ruled it out as a possibility either. He lays back, staring at the ceiling. “I think I’m ready,” he says, voice quivery.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t have to rush,” Eddie says, sweeping his fingers over Richie’s hip bones.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie takes a deep breath, then nods. “I’m ready,” he says, slightly bolder this time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Eddie says. There’s a click of a bottle cap, but Richie doesn’t dare look.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It seems like forever before Eddie’s slick finger lands on Richie’s hole, but his hands are warm when he does. Richie still gasps, already clutching at the sheets.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re so sensitive,” Eddie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your fingers are on my asshole,” Richie snaps. “That’s a lot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie laughs. “Relax,” he says. “It’s okay. I like it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie lays back, trying to relax. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie slides his finger up, down, up, down…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie lets out a breath he didn’t fully realize he was holding. He doesn’t dare look at Eddie. “There’s, like, a little stain on your ceiling,” he blurts. “That’s wild, I didn’t think you’d be the kind to stand stains on your ceiling.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess I’m really out of practice,” Eddie says. “If you’re more interested in my ceiling than my fingers on your asshole.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, no, I’m not, I’m just…” Richie says. “Like, trying not to fall to pieces here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“In a good way?” Eddie asks. His fingers stop, resting against Richie’s asshole. Comforting, strangely enough.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Richie says. “I guess.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then feel free,” Eddie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie smiles at that. “Okay,” he says. “If I start sobbing I probably don’t need to stop.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll still ask,” Eddie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is it, like, a kink of yours to keep asking me how I’m doing?” Richie asks. He chances a peek at Eddie, but Eddie’s started moving those two fingers, circling Richie’s hole, and Richie has to look away. He feels absolutely flambeed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” Eddie says. “It is.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, cool,” Richie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie’s finger dips inside him and he lets out an undignified </span>
  <em>
    <span>mmphf?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie grins and rolls his finger back and forth. Each push inside is a little deeper and spreads a little bit more shivery pleasure swirling through Richie’s belly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He grows looser without ever feeling particularly stretched, which has to be magic. When Eddie finally presses his middle finger in all the way to hilt, it happens easily, like Richie’s ass is made of butter. “Mm?” he manages, legs falling apart as something unfurls inside him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie’s finger is in him. All the way up in there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t finger fuck Richie the way Richie did it to himself. He just rocks that finger back and forth, slow and steady, the rest of his fingers resting against Richie’s taint and the crease of his thighs. That one finger moves incremental movements. Richie’s not even sure it </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> moving, but pleasure is spreading through him and he feels looser, so it must be, right?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pushes his hand onto his forehead and presses his palm down in an attempt to keep himself together, and only then realizes how hot his skin is. He swallows with some difficulty, trying to breathe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How is it?” Eddie asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mmphf?” Richie sobs, in what he hopes is a tone that sounds as enthusiastic as he feels.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie grins, pulling the finger out completely. Richie hears the squeeze of lube and returns with two fingers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie does the same thing with two fingers, slow movements that don’t feel like he’s moving them at all, but it’s a wholly different experience with two fingers. The pressure rushing up his gut feels like a balloon expanding through him, shaking tiny, pleasurable shivers out of all the muscles in his abdomen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His breathing goes harsh, then a little too harsh. “Stop,” he manages, insides knotting up all the sudden. “Stop stop holy shit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie freezes. “Fingers out or do you need to stop here?” he asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here,” Richie wheezes. “Here, here, I’m good. I just…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He thinks Eddie’s inside him up to the second knuckle, though it’s hard to tell. And yet, at the same time, he feels like he can feel Eddie’s every breath rolling through Richie’s groin and into his lungs, running interference until Richie can’t breathe or swallow through his dry throat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Overwhelmed?” Eddie murmurs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Richie breathes. “Yeah, kinda.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s alright,” Eddie says, reaching up to take Richie’s hand with his free hand. “I’m glad you stopped me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He presses his thumb and forefinger to each little web between Richie’s fingers, playing out a quiet rhythm between his knuckles until Richie remembers what oxygen is. “Okay,” he says. “Keep going.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Eddie says, indulgent, kissing Richie’s knuckles before he lets go of his hand. He rests his hand back on Richie’s thigh, pushing his leg down to give himself room as he keeps going.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He moves his fingers in circles, like a wave ebbing back and forth, working himself inside Richie one tiny movement at a time. It’s so much, a tsunami of sensation surging through Richie. He moans, head lolling back, and lets it happen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie pulls out, adding lube again. That makes Richie smile, brain somehow managing to connect the dots even through the fog of pleasure that’s overcoming him. Eddie and his worried brow and big, thoughtful eyes, going to town on lube </span>
  <em>
    <span>just in case.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(It’s weird to fantasize about Eddie while Eddie is right between his legs, but if Richie actually looks at him now he’s going to burst into flames for sure.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie’s pushing back inside, three fingers now. Three fingers is easier than two fingers somehow, but that might be because Richie’s brain has left the station. He can’t follow what’s happening, only that it feels really, really good.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He grips his own hair, a little noise crawling up his throat. He wonders if this is what wind up toys feel like, tighter and tighter until they’re itching to move. He pulls up one leg in a helpless attempt to burn off some of the energy blazing through him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie’s moving so fucking slowly, Richie feels like he’ll be here forever, Eddie inside him but not fucking him, and it sends him spiralling into a strange, shivery madness. “Eddie,” he blurts. “Eddie, please.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, okay,” Eddie says, comfortingly stroking the back of Richie’s knee.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sparks rattle through his leg and Richie nearly shoots through the ceiling like a bottle rocket, jerking his leg away like Eddie’s hand is made of lava.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sensitive,” Eddie chuckles. “Sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie tries to tease back, but all that comes out is a garbled noise between a sob and laugh. “Eddie,” he croaks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m working on it,” Eddie says softly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie changes a glance at Eddie. Eddie’s wiping his hands with a little wet wipe, and he smiles at Richie when he sees him looking. Richie may or may not flip inside out at that. At all of it. It’s so </span>
  <em>
    <span>Eddie.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He blinks away tears, going back to the stain on the ceiling. The stain is safe. The stain isn’t going to mash him up inside and then make a sparkling grenade out of the remaining Richie pudding.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He starts laughing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hears Eddie laughing with him as the condom wrapper crinkles. “What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My sex thoughts are so unsexy,” Richie whispers. “I just thought of my insides as pudding. Richie pudding.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not surprising,” Eddie says, gently parting his knees. His hands are careful, trying not to tickle Richie again, but the effort is futile. Richie thinks Eddie’s hands are going to burn holes in him no matter what he does, and the thought is thrilling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Swiss cheese,” he chokes out, crying laughing. “I’m a whole entire smorgasbord.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You are the weirdest person I’ve ever fucked,” Eddie says, swallowing down his own laughter with an ungraceful noise.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The harder Richie laughs, the harder Eddie has to try not to laugh with him, which just makes Richie laugh harder, until they’re both weeping and wheezing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Eddie says. “Jesus. Stop it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t help it,” Richie says, knocking his glasses up onto his forehead as he covers his face. “I’m sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie’s still breathless with residual laughter, but he grips Richie’s thighs and pushes them apart. He thumbs at the stretchmarks lining the inside of his thighs, tickling the coarse hair there and sending an electric current shooting through Richie’s entire body. “HO my god!” Richie shouts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry, sorry,” Eddie says, laughing out of sheer inertia. “Sorry. It’s very hard to be appropriately gentle with you when you’re so sensitive.” He lines his fingers up with the stretch marks and pushes them firmly into the meat of Richie’s legs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mm,” Richie says. “‘S okay. I like the firm grip.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Eddie says, removing one hand. “Try not to laugh while I’m going in. I don’t want you clenching while you adjust.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mhmm,” Richie says, a traitorous giggle rolling through him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie snorts and shifts so he’s lined up with Richie’s hole and then slowly breaches.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nnn?” Richie says, feeling a little bit like Wile E Coyote just now realizing that he’s run out into the air over a cliff. He’s not falling yet, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh boy.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good or bad?” Eddie asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie blinks at him, wondering what kind of face he must be making for Eddie to have to ask. He’s probably going cross-eyed, which isn’t helped by his glasses being pushed halfway into his hair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Richie manages. “Keep... Keep…?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie grips his hips and starts pressing inside, one hiccuping breath from Richie at a time. It starts out a push and then the pressure keeps building, building… maybe Richie is the balloon, and Eddie is pushing down on it, squeezing until he’s about to explode, stretched thin over all the sensation inside him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck?” Richie asks. He doesn’t know what his voice sounds like. Like he’s asking a question in class, maybe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Need me to stop again?” Eddie asks, patient.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mhmm,” Richie manages.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Eddie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is it, like, super weird,” Richie pants, “to sit there with the tip of your dick just chilling in a dude’s butt?” He can practically feel Eddie trying to come up with an answer, so he quickly amends, “Pretend I didn’t say that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gladly,” Eddie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your dick is inside me,” Richie croaks. “How much of it is inside me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Half an inch, maybe,” Eddie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How many inches to go?” Richie manages.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Five and a half,” Eddie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie blows the world’s most overwhelmed raspberry.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t have to take it,” Eddie says. “We can switch.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s not it,” Richie says. “I want to. I just think that maybe the moment I achieve satisfaction i’m going to explode and my guts will be plastered all over your walls and your wallpaper is so red even after you peel me off you’ll never be fully sure you got it all and you’ll be…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Richie,” Eddie says, sounding utterly charmed. “Rich. You are genuinely killing my boner.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Richie croaks. “I just think I caught a glimpse of how good this’ll be and my life flashed before my eyes at the concept of orgasming myself to death and I realized from my life that I might not be allowed this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie stops short. “Oh,” he says. He pauses a moment longer, then takes Richie’s hands into his own, lacing their fingers together. “That’s bullshit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie laughs at that, and the knot in his stomach bursts. “That… actually helped, thanks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie lowers his face to Richie’s chest and kisses there, breathing in like he can’t get enough of Richie’s scent. There’s something primal about him, suddenly, peering up at Richie, coiled like a bobcat or a velociraptor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Richie thinks. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This is how I die.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you,” Eddie says. “And you deserve to cum your brains out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” Richie says. “Okay. Cool.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie laughs, breath fanning out through the hair on Richie’s chest. Every single hair feels like a livewire, and Richie feels like there’s probably a train of thought to spiral into there, but it’s interrupted by Eddie mouthing along his ribcage.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then, to top it all off, he pulls back with a mild </span>
  <em>
    <span>pffbt</span>
  </em>
  <span> as he spits out the chest hair that got into his mouth and mutters, “Sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That probably shouldn’t be sexy, but it has Richie blurting, “Please god fuck me yesterday.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Eddie breathes. “Yeah, okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pulls out, lubes himself up again, and then he’s back, pushing Richie’s left leg up the bed as far as it goes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nice and easy,” Eddie murmurs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie gives him an okay sign.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie pushes inside and it’s only second before Richie’s gasping for air again, clutching at the sheets. Eddie peels his fingers away and laces their hands together. “Hey,” he murmurs. “I’ve got you, okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie nods frantically as Eddie slides a little further, heat mounting with every increment. He has to focus to keep from clenching. He feels like he’s on fire. It’s all way too much - the stretch, the heat of Eddie’s dick, the way Eddie clutches his hands, the way Eddie wants him, the way Eddie looks, Eddie, Eddie, Eddie - but Richie doesn’t want to let any of it go.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then Richie feels Eddie’s balls against his ass. “Oh,” he breathes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Eddie breathes. He’s not as composed as Richie thought he’d be, flushed red and breathing hard.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s all of it, huh?” Richie mumbles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s all of it,” Eddie murmurs. “How are you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dying I think probably,” Richie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that good?” Eddie asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Feels like whenever you start fucking me my entire world is going to flip upside down and I’ll never be the same again,” Richie says. “And uh… I don’t know who I’m gonna be on the other side.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not a virgin,” Eddie replies.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie laughs, clenching around Eddie’s dick and shivering at the sensation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie squeezes Richie’s face between his hands. “You’re going to be the same person,” he says. “And I love that person so, so much, okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie mewls. He’d be embarrassed at the noise, but he’s so busy gazing into Eddie’s eyes, feeling like nothing matters but the person Eddie sees him as. Hell, maybe he’s right. Maybe Richie is that guy, that funny, kind, precious man that Eddie would fight for.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Remember I told you I never fingered myself before I met you?” Richie breathes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Eddie says. “I really do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I pictured you, like, explaining it to me,” Richie says. “How to finger me right.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really?” Eddie says, looking absolutely thrilled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can you do that?” Richie asks. “Tell me what’s going on while you do it, because I don’t know what’s going on and I…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie kisses him before he can spiral and nods. “Yes. I can do that. Are you ready?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie nods frantically.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Eddie says. “Well, I’m going to slide my hand under you so I have some control over how you arch your back, which is going to help me get a good angle.” He does it as he talks, hand spread out on the small of Richie’s back, tilting his hips with a gentle push.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He rolls his hips, and Richie has to squeeze his eyes shut. It feels different from fingering himself. Smoother. Wider. Hotter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I want to be hitting your prostate,” Eddie says, thrusting shallowly a few times.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think I ever reached it,” Richie says. “When I did it to myself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s pretty common,” Eddie says. He sounds mostly composed, but Richie can hear the harshness of his breathing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He rolls his hips again, and Richie’s breath hitches. It’s not as sudden as Richie had thought, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It feels like the drag of Eddie’s dick is pushing all the way up Richie’s body, except his dick is a sunbeam warming and scorching Richie’s insides.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That sounds promising,” Eddie says. “When I get a little reaction like that, I try to repeat what I did, get a better sense of what angle works for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He does exactly that, and Richie mewls this time, legs falling open as the sensation rolls through him. It’s too much and not enough at once, an overwhelming shock that’s over as soon as it starts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I think that angle works for you,” Eddie says, chuckling at little.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie has to swallow a few times to croak, “You think?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think,” Eddie confirms, rolling his hips again. The feeling mounts every time he does it. “So now I’m trying to get used to the angle, going slow, settling a rhythm.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh-huh,” Richie sobs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie takes his hand with his free hand. “It’s okay. You’re okay. Are you feeling good?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie nods, desperate.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie smiles and keeps rolling his hips, hitting that perfect angle every time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie dissolves. He can’t think of anything else but that rhythm, the way Eddie is moving, his hand on Richie’s back, his lips on his chest, absently kissing when he remembers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Now that I’ve got a hang of the angle,” Eddie says, shuffling up, “I can speed up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Richie sobs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie thrusts harder, faster, punching small noises out of Richie every time. Richie doesn’t know how to describe how he’s feeling, only that he feels </span>
  <em>
    <span>good, </span>
  </em>
  <span>shivering, toes curling, desperately clawing at the sheets.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie takes his hands and puts them on the back of Eddie’s neck. “Dig your nails in,” he instructs. “As hard as you want.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Richie says, dazed, and on the next thrust he digs his nails in hard enough to make Eddie hiss. He can’t find the brainpower to care, clinging for dear life as Eddie fucks him harder and harder, pleasure mounting and mounting until he thinks his body might have bumped breathing below chasing an orgasm on the priority list.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m changing the angle a little to see if it’s better,” Eddie explains, and Richie can’t muster the words to tell him that he doesn’t give a damn what Eddie does as long as he doesn’t stop.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie can’t even really follow the shift, only that suddenly everything is </span>
  <em>
    <span>even better.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He arches and sobs and probably makes mincemeat of Eddie’s neck, but god, </span>
  <em>
    <span>god…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Relax,” Eddie says, smoothing his hand over Richie’s belly as he thrusts inside Richie. “Relax, don’t clench, it’ll feel better.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie does his best, letting Eddie knead his muscles into submission as he keeps fucking him. He keeps going, and Richie keens and moans and claws at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He feels like he’s about to come, and opens his mouth to say so, but it just keeps going, like he’s not so much falling over the edge as suspended over it. “Fuck,” he sobs out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie looks startled, he thinks, before Richie can’t tell what’s happening because his eyes are rolling back. Eddie keeps massaging his belly, squeezing out tension one stroke of the heel of his hand at a time, murmuring, “Relax, relax…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Richie realizes, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m coming </span>
  </em>
  <span>right now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The orgasm shudders through him and then just keeps going, shocks of pleasure rolling through him, pulsing and twitching and working their way out as sobs and mewls and sharp little cries, until it comes to a peak and he can’t make a single noise.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then it’s over, and the next roll of Eddie’s hips feels like being sliced in half. He twitches weakly, trying to get Eddie to stop at any cost, and Eddie freezes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No more,” Richie sobs. “No more.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Eddie says. “No more.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stays stock still for a moment, then says, “I’m pulling out, it’ll only take a second.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie whimpers at the thought of any more movement, but Eddie’s right. It’s quick, a sharp blast of </span>
  <em>
    <span>too much too much too much</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and then Eddie’s out and flopping down beside him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you…?” Richie manages, sniffling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Eddie says softly. “But that’s okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can,” Richie sobs, “um…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sssh,” Eddie says. “You don’t have to do anything. Is it okay if I jerk off while hugging you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Richie says wetly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Eddie says, rolling them both over on their sides so they’re flush with each other, Eddie’s dick carefully pressed against his belly. He holds Richie close with one arm and jerks off with the other.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It doesn’t take long before Eddie is spilling between them, and then Richie starts crying for real.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ssh,” Eddie murmurs, pulling him in, pressing their foreheads together. “It’s okay. You were great.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You didn’t even touch my dick,” Richie sobs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah that’s… not common,” Eddie says. “I wasn’t expecting it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” Richie says, weeping.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie rolls them over so Richie is sprawled over his chest. Richie keeps crying, even as Eddie shushes him and pets his hair. “Was it good?” Eddie asks, a little bit nervous.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Richie sobs, wiping snot away with the back of his hand. “Fuck!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie smiles and kisses his head. “We sure did.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie tries to laugh at that, but he just cries harder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” Eddie says. “I’m here, I’ve got you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie cries until he finally can’t anymore, then takes a deep breath and settles against Eddie. “That was great.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie chuckles. “I’m glad. Let’s get you into a warm bath, okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you,” Richie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie smiles. “I love you too.” He gives that a moment to sink in, then drags Richie up. “Bath.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie giggles, letting Eddie manhandle him to the bathroom. “So we can do that all the time now, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie chuckles. “Yes, we can.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hell yeah,” Richie says, and lets Eddie take over.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>and there you have it, happy birthday to me</p>
<p>fair warning the fic from here is going to deal a lot more with sexual bdsm from here on. i might try to give start/end warnings for the actual smut scenes for those of you who are not here for that. for those of you who have been waiting patiently for exactly that, tho, congrats! you made it!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Chapter 16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this chapter was edited while both hope and i were having hella bad brain days so please be gentle.</p><p>a few small warnings: there's a lot of smut in this chapter. if enough people want it i'll consider doing "smut starts here/ends here" tags but i am too tired to do them today. some very, very mild exhibitionism with a client (thoroughly discussed by all parties) and some kink negotiation/discussion where eddie freaks out a lot bc he's worried about doing it wrong. also, discussions of sonia. (please lmk if i missed anything)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Richie whines.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie chuckles. He knows the source of Richie’s frustration, and it’s adorable. “Richie, just because it managed to sneak up on you the first time doesn’t mean you’ll be able to come untouched again while you’re overthinking it and listening for your roommates coming home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie whines at him harder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie kisses his back and worms a hand under him to wrap it around his dick. Richie keens at that - he sounds so, so good when he makes those little noises - and jerks him off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie gasps as he comes, clutching the sheets. His mouth falls open and his breath hitches wetly as he shudders and spills over Eddie’s hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie quickly pulls his hand away and grips Richie’s hips, fucking into him quickly until he falls over that crest too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie coming untouched had been hot, but when Richie comes like this he’s not as oversensitive. When he comes like this, Eddie can fuck him until he comes too, spilling into the condom while Richie clenches around him. Eddie can’t say he minds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ties and tosses the condom and strips away the towel under Richie so he can flop down beside him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was so easy the first time,” Richie whines petulantly, sniffling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you want to practice, I have some tips,” Eddie says, pulling him into a hug. “But you were perfect. This time and everytime, sweetheart.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie smiles into his shoulder. “Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Eddie says, rubbing his back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sex with Richie is great, but this might be the best part, wrapping themselves around each other and resting, just listening to Richie’s breathing and letting the tension seep out of his shoulders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What kinda tips?” Richie asks, voice mischievous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Practice practice practice,” Eddie says. “You probably want to use a toy that’s made specifically for that, and then get into the habit of relaxing the right muscles when you’re close. And often it helps to be pent up, so don’t jerk off until you’ve got it down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm,” Richie murmurs. “That’s so much work for something that came naturally the first time.” He barks a laugh. “Ha! Came naturally.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie rolls his eyes. “Well, you’re the one who whines about it every time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was really good!” Richie says. “You set the bar too high the first time!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, and it’s just been a disappointment since, is that it?” Eddie teases.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s been mindblowing every time and you know it, you smug bastard,” Richie grumbles, hiding his face in Eddie’s chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie chuckles, playing with Richie’s hair, twirling locks around his finger absently. “If it’s really important to you, I could make it fun,” he says, before he fully realizes what he’s saying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah?” Richie says, lifting his head and grinning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie swallows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie’s grin drops and his eyes soften. “Hey,” he says. “You okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I, uh,” Eddie says, “I was thinking of Dom stuff. To make it fun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie nods, eyes roving thoughtfully over Eddie’s face. “Would you like to try?” he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie counts his breaths. In, out, in, out. “Let me think about it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie nods. “Sure, whatever you need Spageds.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie laughs. “Shut up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulls Richie in for a tight hug, wrapping his arms and legs around him and squeezing. Richie giggles and falls into it, squeezing back happily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>**</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie spends the rest of the day helping Richie film audition tapes, which turns out to be incredibly unhelpful, because the moment Richie makes eye contact with Eddie as he reads the appropriate lines, he starts laughing. The tapes are completely useless, but Eddie asks Richie to send them to Eddie anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Afterwards, he gets home and spends a good five minutes staring at his contract binder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The contract binder has become his enemy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shuffles up to it like it might fly at him and try to bite and eases it off the bookshelf. He pulls out the folded contract and stares at it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gets a pen, sinks down onto the couch and starts writing. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I want to make him feel safe. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He quickly scratches that out, groans, then adds, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yes, I do. I want to make him FEEL safe, not pretend to keep him safe from imagined threats and I KNOW the difference. I have WORKED to know the difference. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He stares at the page.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He furiously scratches out </span>
  <em>
    <span>exclusivity, </span>
  </em>
  <span>then immediately mourns its loss.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What does exclusivity mean to me?</span>
  </em>
  <span> he writes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I want to give him my undivided attention but what if my undivided attention is too much? What if it’s not good for him? What if</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He stops writing and rubs his hands over his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He writes </span>
  <em>
    <span>vibrators, </span>
  </em>
  <span>just as a reward for trying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he writes </span>
  <em>
    <span>exclusivity </span>
  </em>
  <span>again, then adds, </span>
  <em>
    <span>My undivided attention is not a bad thing. I have the ability to make sure it doesn’t become a bad thing. I want to make him happy. I was not happy as a child.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He sits back and stares at the page, chewing nervously at his pen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pen snaps in two, spilling ink over his lips. He laughs despondently and gets his phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He calls Richie and doesn’t wait for him to say hello before blurting, “I am going insane.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello, darling, yes, I love you too,” Richie teases.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Eddie says, though he’s laughing in earnest now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s cute that you don’t know how to say hi on the phone. You need me to head over there?” Richie asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s… it’s fine,” Eddie says. “I’m okay I’m just super, super overthinking this contract I’m writing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie is silent for a while. “You’re writing a contract?” he says slowly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Eddie says, tired.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Your</span>
  </em>
  <span> contract?!” Richie blurts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, my contract!” Eddie replies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god,” Richie says. “What’s on it? Tell me tell me tell me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” Eddie says. “God it’s just a… it’s a fucking mess. It’s just a stream-of-consciousness look into my anxieties.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie giggles. “I mean, so was mine, at first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie smiles at that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know we don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> to do this, right?” Richie asks. “I can settle for nothing but bomb-ass sex where you’re a little authoritative, we don’t have to delve into the kinky shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to,” Eddie says softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I want to make him feel safe,</span>
  </em>
  <span> stares up at him beneath all the frantic lines trying to cross it out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, then how can I help?” Richie asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think,” Eddie says slowly, “maybe I can delocalize this process.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See, now I’m not sure if you’re just doing that thing where you use big words while being too stubborn to look up what they mean or not,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I mean…” Eddie says, suddenly not sure at all that he know what </span>
  <em>
    <span>delocalize</span>
  </em>
  <span> means. “What if we… sort of bring our relationship and me Domming into the same space but without it being about you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not sure I follow?” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have a client who’s a little bit into exhibitionism,” Eddie says. “I’ve sort of played around with saying the neighbors might overhear what we’re doing but… if you wanted to stay over and then just stay in the bedroom until I’m done…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want me to be a prop in someone else’s scene?” Richie asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that alright?” Eddie asks. “I’d have to clear it with her, of course, but only if you’re comfortable with me even asking. And if you’re worried about coming out, she’s a lesbian and obviously she knows I’m gay, so she wouldn’t mind and she knows better than to tell anyone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, yeah,” Richie says. He sounds like he’s still thinking. “Can I make it a little bit about me, though?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How?” Eddie asks, despite the fact that he wants to give Richie anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe… if you mention to her that I’m in the other room, also mention I’m great?” Richie asks, quietly. He chuckles in a feeble effort to make it sound like a joke. Eddie wishes he was there to see him blushing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can do that.” Eddie hesitates, biting his lip. “I’m going to Dom you a little over the phone right now, is that alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah</span>
  </em>
  <span> it’s alright,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just a little,” Eddie says. “You know your safewords, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, red-yellow-green,” Richie says, sounding a little amused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie takes a deep breath and drops the pitch of his voice. “Would you like her to know how good you are for me?” he murmurs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Richie says softly. “I mean, if you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Eddie says. “I can tell her, but I don’t think I could go too into detail. I think it’d be demoralizing for her to know she could never be as perfect as you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie’s breath hitches. “Really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really,” Eddie says. “I couldn’t ask for a more perfect sub than you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Richie murmurs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can tell her what a wonderful boyfriend you are, though,” Eddie says. “I can tell her that you subbed for me too, that you were great at it. Brag about how quickly you went down. Just a little.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Richie says. “Yeah, if… if that’s alright.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is,” Eddie says. “I’ll tell her that, and you’ll wait patiently in the next room, knowing I’m thinking about you while working with her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s okay?” Richie asks. “I’d hate to distract you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m always thinking of you when I Dom,” Eddie says. “A little bit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie lets out a choked little noise. “Really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How could I not? You’re so perfect at it,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, uh, it feels a little weird to safeword over the phone but I think that’s enough for me today?” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie shakes his head to clear it. “Of course. You’re alright, though?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah, just a little overwhelmed,” Richie says. “Like, in a flattered way, but I gotta regroup, man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you need anything call me and I’ll be there,” Eddie says, heart racing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eddie, I’m fine,” Richie says. “I just got scared I was gonna cry or something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Eddie breathes. “Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Richie says. “Are </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie mulls that over. “Oh Jesus fuck this was so irresponsible,” he breathes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Richie says, again. “No it wasn’t. You asked me, you asked for the safewords, it was cool.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but you didn’t feel comfortable </span>
  <em>
    <span>using</span>
  </em>
  <span> them, did you?” Eddie snaps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just because it felt easier to talk to you directly,” Richie says. “If I’d needed to quit fast I would have used them just fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you’d dropped I wouldn’t have been there and I…” Eddie breathes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eddie, can </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> drop?” Richie asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Eddie manages.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that a thing? Domdrop?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Eddie breathes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be there in ten minutes, okay? Uh… put me on speaker and go... drink water and eat something?” Richie tries. “I don’t know, do… do drop stuff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie smiles despite his racing heartbeat and does exactly that, leaving his phone on the coffee table while getting a glass of water to guzzle down. Then, after a pause, he hurriedly tries to wash off the ink spilling over his chin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie keeps chattering over the phone, talking about nothing in particular, and by the time he gets there Eddie has already calmed down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey there,” Richie says, stepping inside. “We gotta stop meeting like this. We go home, we have a panic attack, we come running right back together…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie rolls his eyes. “Shut up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie tenderly wipes some of the leftover ink from his lip. “How’s it going?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” Eddie says. “I’m fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie envelops him in a big hug. “Hi fine, I’m fine too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re so dumb,” Eddie mutters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And </span>
  <em>
    <span>perfect,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As a </span>
  <em>
    <span>sub,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ooh, is that your contract?” Richie asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie moves faster than humanly possible to snatch it up and hide it behind his back, hitting his shin on the coffee table as he does. He and Richie stare each other down for a tense moment before Eddie finally lets himself breathe a small, “Ow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oooookay,” Richie says. “Is it that embarrassing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just not sure about… some of it,” Eddie says. “Any of it. Most of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A whole range of answers there,” Richie says. He waggles his brows. “Is hypnosis on it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie groans. “No, I didn’t get that far.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you have </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span> embarrassing kinks?” Richie teases.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Eddie says. It’s not embarrassing, it’s profoundly, overwhelmingly intense and frightening and exhilarating. It’s a leap of faith Eddie didn’t ever think he’d be able to take. “It’s just… I want to be sure. I don’t want to bring it up and take it back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie blinks at him, bewildered, but accepts it anyway. “Okay. Is it sappy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie feels his cheeks burning. “I think… uh… you’ll like it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So definitely sappy, then,” Richie says, beaming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie nods cautiously. Is it sappy? If Richie was his only sub, would that be romantic, or would it be something greedy and forceful? His heart speeds up again. He sits before he can convince himself he’s having a heart attack.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re getting a funny look again,” Richie says. “Put your sappy little fantasies away and let’s watch Chicken Run, sound good?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie lets out a slow breath. “Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Richie says. “I promise I’m not peeking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie snorts. “Alright.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He slips the contract back behind Richie’s and puts it away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>**</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie ends up staying over again, and Eddie calls his client in the morning with Richie snoring and draped over his lap. “Hi,” he says. “Do you have a second to talk about our scene this Saturday?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure,” she says. “What’s up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My boyfriend will be staying over the night before,” Eddie says, petting Richie’s head while he does it. “Do you mind if he hangs out in the bedroom while we do our scene? I’d introduce you both before we start and after that he’d stay there with the door closed, and I would keep my phone on so he can text me if he’s uncomfortable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I think that’d be fine,” she says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If it’s not okay in the moment we’ll end the scene and try again when he’s not there, how’s that sound?” Eddie asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds good,” she says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re sure?” he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this like a kink thing for you guys?” she asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He used to be my sub before we started dating,” Eddie admits. “I’m trying to ease him back into this part of my life. Is that too much?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s cute,” she says. “I like seeing Mr. Kaspbrak in love.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie snorts. “Thanks, Sandy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No problem, sir,” she says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie yawns. “Wassat?” he murmurs, watching as Eddie hangs up the phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re on for the exhibition approach,” Eddie says, putting his phone away. “Also, I think you and Sandy will get along.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmm,” Richie says. “You know, I said I wasn’t jealous and I’m not, but I feel really warm and gooey about not having to leave the apartment while you work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie’s chest squeezes. “Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I just feel like… really at home in your life this way,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Eddie says, overwhelmed by emotion. “That’s good. I like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie nuzzles into his belly. “Good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie lays back and takes a deep breath, weaving his hand into Richie’s hair as Richie dozes back off comfortably.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>**</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So does this feel like we’re dogs being socialized or what?” Richie says the moment Sandy comes over and waves at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughs. “Dude, Mr. Kaspbrak is dating </span>
  <em>
    <span>Richie Tozier?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, and obviously we’re trusting you to be discreet,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No problemo,” Sandy says. “I’m not out at my firm, so I get it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a lawyer?” Richie asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” she says. “Environmental law.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nice,” Richie says. “Sounds like a bummer, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A little bit,” she says. “Which is why sometimes I like to sit back and be spanked by your boyfriend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie swallows. If he goes exclusive, he’s going to have to match up all his subs with other Doms, he realizes, something he hadn’t even gotten to beyond his freakouts. Kay would probably work well with Sandy, and there’s a whole handful of Doms that would work for Adrian, and…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shakes his head and reminds himself to focus, because Sandy and Richie are currently babbling about one of his shittier movies and he needs to streamline this process.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” he says. “I’m glad you guys are comfortable around each other, that’ll make this a lot easier.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yessir,” Sandy says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you call him sir?” Richie asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t?” she asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, he just calls me sweetheart,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gross,” she says, in a way that makes Richie grin ear to ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now the way this is going to work,” Eddie says in his Dom voice, gaining their rapt attention, “is that both of you are allowed to end the scene with a safeword at any time. Sandy, your usual safeword will work. Richie, I’d prefer it if you text me or call me. My phone is at full volume, but if you need to, just come and get me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie nods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To be clear, even if I’m not actively Domming you, you’re also my sub in this situation,” Eddie says. “You do not have to worry about Sandy. I will take care of Sandy, and if you’re uncomfortable you </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> to tell me. I will make the decision about how to proceed. Got it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie tries not to shiver at how quickly he remembers their rules. “Sandy, same for you. You don’t have to worry about Richie. It’s completely about your own comfort with him being in the apartment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, sir,” she says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” he says. “Sandy, your safeword?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vasectomy,” she says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie swallows down a laugh with admirable speed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Richie?” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Green for go, yellow for pause and red for stop,” Richie says eagerly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Eddie says. “How are you feeling?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Green as a leprechaun,” Richie says happily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Eddie says, cupping the back of his head and pulling him down, just a little possessive, before looking at Sandy. “Now Richie is a very, very good boy, so he’s going to go to my room and wait for me to be done with you.” He looks at Richie, wide eyed and bashful. “Isn’t that right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go on. I’ll let you know when I’m done, sweetheart,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie wobbles away, casting a glance over his shoulder at Eddie. Eddie stares him down until he’s all the way down the hall and he hears the door slam, then turns back to Sandy. “Alright, you know the drill. Over the arm of the couch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>**</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sandy is an easy sub to work with. She doesn’t really go entirely into subspace, but she does thoroughly enjoy things. She likes some spanking, just enough degradation that Eddie doesn’t really have to force himself to be mean, and today she seems to be thrilled by the idea that Richie might overhear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which is all very good, because Eddie can focus just enough to give her a good scene while the rest of his brain screams at the idea of Richie being in the other room, the perfect sub, neglected.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He finishes up the scene, ignoring the way he’s vibrating under his skin, gives Sandy a glass of water and chocolate and lets her rest it off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, tell Richie I said goodbye and thanks for making this exciting,” she says, finally.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will,” he says, helping her with her coat. “Thanks for letting us try this out with you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She flashes him a thumbs up as he sees her out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He closes the door, takes a deep breath, and heads to the bedroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie looks up from where he’s sprawled over the bed reading a book, biting his lip. “Hey.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi,” Eddie says. “How was that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Richie says. “I didn’t hear much, your walls are pretty soundproof.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie sits beside him, resting a hand on his head. “Well, I’m glad you were here. It… made all this seem a lot less dire.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie beams at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to get back into it,” Eddie says. “With you, I mean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie looks up at him hopefully. “You sure?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie takes a deep breath and nods. “I like how you relax when I Dom you. I like how you react to praise. I want to give you that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie slowly rolls onto his back and shifts up to sit. “I’d like that too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re going to have to reassure me a lot,” Eddie says. “I worry that because I want you so much, I’ll get greedy. That I’ll blind myself to how much control is good for you. That I’ll… That because we’re seeing each other I’ll develop a sense of ownership over you that… is… too much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eddie, you know I don’t think that’s true,” Richie says, opening his arms for Eddie to sink into them. “You’re so careful and kind with me. I think the second I so much as thought about feeling overcontrolled you’d sense it and cry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie shakes his head vehemently, sitting back on his heels, panicked. “Bad wording,” he chokes out. “Bad… sorry, that was the wrong thing to say, it’s not your fault but I’m…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whoa whoa whoa,” Richie says, holding up his hands. “Breathe. Breathe, babe, it’s okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My mom would cry whenever I accused her of doing something wrong,” Eddie gasps. “If I showed I was uncomfortable she’d cry and…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie pulls their foreheads together. “I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie breathes steadily. In, out, in, out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not really a crier,” Richie tries softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie breathes a small laugh. “No, I guess I’m not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not that it…” Richie murmurs. “I mean, you’d be genuine about it. You’d care and you’d fix it, is what I meant.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Eddie says. “I know what you meant.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” Richie says. “I feel so safe with you, it’s nuts. I just casually talked to someone who knows me from my movies about my boyfriend, did you see that? I would never have done that on my own, ever. You make me feel so, so safe. Safe to be me, specifically.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie does cry at that, which for a scary second seems like it’s going to set off another panic attack, but instead makes him feel calmer than he has in forever. Richie pulls him in and hugs him tightly, petting his hair like Eddie does for him. Eddie has a flash of anger, because that’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> thing, it’s how he shows he’s in control, that </span>
  <em>
    <span>he’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> taking care of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Richie,</span>
  </em>
  <span> but then that passes too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie can take care of him. He’s good at it. He takes care of him the right way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thought of there being a right way to care for someone feels like a sudden, earth shattering epiphany. If Richie can hold and care for Eddie without stifling him - Eddie, who fought his way out of being cared for the wrong way until the battle became a snarling, awful, permanent monster in his chest - then Eddie can do the same for Richie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sssh,” Richie murmurs, stroking his hair and letting Eddie cry. “It’s okay. You’ve got me, I’ve got you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Eddie sobs. “I believe you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie kisses the top of his head. “It’s okay. It’s alright. You’re okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lets Eddie cry himself out and releases him easily when Eddie pulls away to wipe his face. “I might be more of a crier than I thought,” Eddie admits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, okay, but not a crocodile crier,” Richie offers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie chuckles. He takes a deep breath. “I want us to try a scene with the old rules but with sex allowed, see how it changes things. Once I have a feel for that, I think we should renegotiate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie blinks at him. “Yeah, okay, sounds good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie bites his lip. “Maybe we could also use a vibrator?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Richie says, sultry. “Yeah, okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay?” Eddie asks. “You’re sure?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie nods. “We can try it and I’ll tell you if it’s too much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great,” Eddie says. “Good.” He takes a deep breath, looking into Richie’s eyes, then tries to relax by kissing him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>**</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie has left Friday evenings open for Richie since they started, but now he finally gets to pencil Richie in properly, blocking out the time for a proper scene. He lays out a nice, soft mat under the hook, lays out the equipment he’ll need and changes into comfortable clothes and paces until Richie arrives.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi,” Richie says, giving him a peck on the lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s almost enough to throw Eddie off already. “Hi,” he says, and eases Richie’s jacket off. “Give me your safewords now so we can get right into it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Red is stop, yellow is slow, green is go,” Richie says. He sounds very bored, but Eddie ignores that. “Uh, do I need to ask you </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> safewords?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll use the same ones,” Eddie says. “Don’t worry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Richie says. “Cool.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to do something similar to where we left off,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, with the, uh, brush?” Richie asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie nods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, that was good,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie tugs on his shirt, and he bends down easily to let Eddie slip it over his head. He folds it and lays it on the coffee table. He does the same with Richie’s pants and boxers, then reaches up for his glasses. “May I?” he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie nods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie slips them off, folding them into one hand and taking the other to lead Richie down the hallway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He presses him towards the mat. “Kneel,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie does, like it’s a relief to finally be able to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie sets his glasses on the dresser. “Your glasses are on the dresser if you need them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Richie says softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t seem to mind the rope in your mouth last time, is it okay if we do that with the no talking rule?” Eddie asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Richie says. “It wasn’t hard to talk around it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It shouldn’t be,” Eddie says. “I like when you talk, I’d just rather you relax right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie smiles softly at him. “I know that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie’s heart skips a beat. This is okay. Eddie can do this and Richie will enjoy it. “Good. I’m very glad you know how much I like you, sweetheart.” He ruffles Richie’s hair. “Now, no speaking unless I ask. Got it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Richie replies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good boy,” Eddie says. He presses a hand to Richie’s chest and one to his back and maneuvers him down. “Head down, stay kneeling.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shifts with Richie until his chest is on the ground, ass in the air, then maneuvers his feet so the soles are together and his wrists down between his knees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gets the rope and starts by binding his feet together, then looping it up to fix his wrists to his ankles. Slowly, carefully, he forms a harness around his hips and chest and attaches that to the hook so his hips are suspended.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, he presses a hand between Richie’s shoulder blades and pushes. “Breathe in,” he instructs. Richie does. “And relax your muscles as you exhale.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie tries. Eddie can feel his back muscles unclench under Eddie’s hand. “Okay, again. Breathe in…” Richie follows instructions perfectly. “Breathe out as much tension in your muscles as you can.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It works better this time, Richie settling into the rope.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One more time,” Eddie murmurs. “Breathe in… and </span>
  <em>
    <span>relax.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Richie wriggles his shoulders a little, then lets them drop. “The rope should hold you up, you shouldn’t have to support your own weight at all. Can you relax entirely into the rope?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Richie murmurs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Eddie says. “Very good.” He loops the rope into Richie’s mouth, loose enough that he can spit it out, then ties it off and sits back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie looks very content. Eddie takes a few deep breaths and reminds himself of that fact. He’s safe and happy. Eddie is going to make him feel really good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He strokes Richie’s hair. “Okay,” he says. “Just relax, that’s all you have to do for me, sweetheart. Can you do that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Es,” Richie murmurs, already hazy-eyed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Such a good boy for me always, sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reaches for the makeup brush and gently coasts it up Richie’s thigh. He tenses, and Eddie quickly shushes him. “Shushshushshush,” he murmurs. “Just relax. You’re doing good, just relax.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie tries his best, but he tenses and whines when Eddie runs his brush up Richie’s other thigh. “Relax, </span>
  <em>
    <span>relax,</span>
  </em>
  <span> sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs again. “It’s okay. It might take a while, just try to relax as quickly as you can if you notice yourself tensing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie nods, and Eddie rewards him by combing his fingers through Richie’s hair, tugging a little as he goes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie goes a little limper in the ropes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s try something easier,” Eddie says. “Tell me if you don’t like it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reaches under the bed and drags out the riding crop, running it over Richie’s belly. Richie gasps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you tell what this is?” Eddie asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Es,” Richie breathes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry, I won’t hit you with it,” Eddie murmurs. “I know you don’t want that and I’d never do anything you don’t like. You know that, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Es,” Richie says, quick and earnest, sending a shock of relief rushing through Eddie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you like the idea of it, don’t you?” Eddie murmurs. “That I know how to use it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmm,” Richie mumbles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie tugs at his hair gently. “Yes or no, sweetheart, come on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Es,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Baby,” Eddie purrs. “Are you tired of talking? Want to just feel?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Es,” Richie murmurs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Color?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Een,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Eddie says. “I won’t ask you more questions. You’re doing so well relaxing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie sighs and relaxes even more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He traces the riding crop over Richie’s ass. Richie twitches, then relaxes again. Eddie follows it with the makeup brush, which makes Richie twitch harder, but he relaxes quickly after that, too. “Good boy,” Eddie says. “That’s exactly right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie’s breath hitches and he melts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie relaxes along with him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s not sure what sort of crazy, rabid possessive instinct he thought would kick in when he first Dommed Richie as his boyfriend, but it’s markedly absent. He could cry with relief.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So good for me, sweetheart,” he breathes, choking up a little. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reaches for the lube, wetting one hand and then returning to swirl the brush around Richie’s nipples.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He brushes the back of his hand over Richie’s ass to let him get used to the feeling, then presses his fingers to his hole. Richie jolts, but a small </span>
  <em>
    <span>sh</span>
  </em>
  <span> is enough to get him to relax again, even as Eddie presses his fingers in and opens him up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t stretch him much, just enough to get a little plug into him. He pets Richie’s hair. “How’s that feel?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Ood,” Richie slurs, like he’s struggling to think.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie switches it to a low level vibration. Richie moans. “Still good?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Es,” Richie chokes out, tongue lolling as he drools on the mat, curling absently around the rope.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Color?” Eddie asks, just to be sure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Een,” Richie murmurs, lashes fluttering.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Eddie says, a bubble of relief bursting in his gut. “Good, very good. Keep relaxing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie goes slack, completely blissed out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie returns to alternating the brush and the crop, listening to Richie wet little breaths, shuddering absently with every swipe of Eddie’s hands. He’s enraptured, shivering with his own pleasure as he watches.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He presses a thumb to Richie’s perineum, and Richie lets out a little sigh as Eddie starts massaging his prostate from the outside, holding the plug at a good angle with a finger. “That feels good, doesn’t it?” Eddie says, hurriedly shoving his hand into his pants to jerk himself off too. “I think you can come untouched again. I want you to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie’s gasping breaths grow faster.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come,” Eddie orders, sharply as he can, and Richie does, eyes rolling back, toes curling, the rest of his body slack.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie comes too, gasping and moaning as he spills into his pants.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie still hasn’t moved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie’s ears are ringing, but he quickly takes out the plug and undoes all the ropes to sit Richie up. He brushes Richie’s hair out of his face and wipes his face clean.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi,” he says. “Hi, baby, come back up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie’s eyes roll to meet his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rich,” Eddie says softly. “You were great, time to come back now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm?” Richie manages, a step in the right direction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s it, I know it’s hard to come back after all that, but I’ve got you,” Eddie says. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I do,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he realizes with a sense of exhilaration. “I’ve got you, you were perfect. Come back to me, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘M here,” Richie slurs, head lolling against Eddie’s arms. “‘M good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re very good,” Eddie laughs. “Come on, focus on me. It’s okay. Focus.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie blinks vaguely, struggling to make eye contact. “Hi,” he says, sounding drunk and loopy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi,” Eddie laughs. “Hi, does it feel good down there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah ‘m floaty,” Richie says, slumping against him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I bet you are,” Eddie says, stroking his hair. “Come on, wake up. It’s time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘M awake,” Richie mumbles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No you’re not,” Eddie chuckles. “Up and at ‘em, sweetheart.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nooooo I feel like a marshmallow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie bursts out laughing at that, and Richie lifts his head to offer a small </span>
  <em>
    <span>pfft</span>
  </em>
  <span> in response. “Okay, marshmallow. Try to come back to the room. Just remember where you are, what’s going on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘M snuggling with the love of my life,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, I’m glad you’re aware enough to be a sap,” Eddie says, sitting him up, “but I need you to actually let your head clear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘S is as close as we’re gonna get for a bit,” Richie says sluggishly. “But look officer, I can do this.” He touches his own nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not getting pulled over for drunk driving,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good thing, I couldn’t date a cop,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie snorts. “Alright, I guess you’re awake enough for full sentences. Would you like to eat chocolate in a bubble bath?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmmm that sounds very nice,” Richie says, letting Eddie drag him to his feet. “Did you like it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sounds a little fragile, and Eddie nods quickly. “I did. I think this is going to work out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yaaaay,” Richie says. “Good. I love Dom Eddie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dom Eddie loves you too,” Eddie says. “More importantly I… I don’t think Dom Eddie is gonna hurt you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think that either,” Richie says, giving Eddie a sloppy kiss on the cheek before sitting down on the floor. “Drag me, my legs are done for today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie groans, but he can’t stop smiling as he does exactly that.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>will eddie EVER bring up that exclusivity? maybe.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Chapter 17</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>psa: as you can see pb got a stay of execution. it will have 19 chapters and an epilogue on the 7th!</p>
<p>warnings/kinks for this chapter: kink negotiation that doesn't go smoothly, richie's lack of self confidence, car sex (at eddie's garage but they're alone and the door is locked so it's not?? public sex???)</p>
<p>a very normal set of warnings, i know</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Richie wakes up giddy on Monday, all but vibrating with how ready he is to simply be at Eddie’s already.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As much as he loves Boyfriend Eddie, he can’t deny he missed Dom Eddie. He missed the set Friday time and the way Eddie would greet him and shift into a mode where everything was clear-cut and simple. He thinks this is what other people get out of meditation, a moment to breathe and simply shut off and come back like a freshly rebooted computer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He smacks his cheeks and reminds himself to be cautious. He wants Eddie to have the same relief, and he’d promised Eddie to keep an eye on things.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once the scenes start, he’s pretty sure he’ll be braindead, which means now, during negotiation, is when he has to be extremely aware of how Eddie is doing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He swings himself out of bed, gets dressed, and tries not to look like a lunatic as he all but skips down the hall to the kitchen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good morning, Mike, you’re here early,” Richie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mike waves at him. “It’s my day off,” he says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m going to give him an exclusive tour of the museum,” Patty says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you taking your boys?” Richie asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sadly they’re both busy,” Mike says, “but we’ll torment them with bonding time later.” He winks at Patty, who seems to be living her dream.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I like you, Micycle,” Richie says, making Mike smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you,” he says, with what Richie can only describe as mischievous politeness.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where are you off to, Mr. Sunshine?” Patty asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Eddie’s,” Richie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm,” Patty says, squinting. “If you’re proposing, I need to prepare Stan emotionally.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not! We just have fun plans today,” Richie says, rubbing his hands together to try to stave off some of his excess energy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Very fun, clearly,” she says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mike eyes him with a twinkle in his eye. He might actually know what Richie’s up to, but Richie can’t bring himself to care.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll be back later today,” Richie says, ruffling her hair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nooo come on, I just got it properly tiiiied,” she whines.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have fun you two!” Richie calls, blowing kisses as he darts out the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>**</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Noon o’clock sharp!” Richie declares proudly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You really like the punctuality part of this, huh?” Eddie says, lips quirking up at the corners.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I do,” Richie says. “It’s nice. Scheduled Richie time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie smiles. “You like that I’ve sectioned out a part of my day just for you?” he says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie shudders. It’s not like Eddie’s Dom voice doesn’t pop up places, especially in the bedroom, but it’s nice when it’s intentional. When it’s meant </span>
  <em>
    <span>for</span>
  </em>
  <span> Richie. He nods.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie helps him with his coat and steers him to the couch. He sits Richie down with a firm grip on his shoulders, then sits next to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a blank notebook on the table with a perfectly aligned pen, like Eddie had spent the last fifty minutes carefully adjusting them to be perfectly straight.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, give me the pen,” Eddie says, casually.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie has it in his face in a heartbeat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie smiles, smug, and takes the pen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie squirms, so eager he could combust. “So how does this work?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My plan was we’d state our biggest goals and wants first, then we’d go through a kink list and mark yesses, maybes, hard nos,” Eddie says. “Get a firm grasp of both our boundaries.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Richie says eagerly. “Who’s starting?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I, uh,” Eddie says, clearing his throat. Richie grins at him. He likes when Eddie’s flustered. “Before we get into anything else, I wanted to mention the possibility of…” He squirms. Richie is fascinated. He’s never seen Eddie so clearly embarrassed. He usually hides it with anger or annoyance, but now he’s red as a tomato and downright antsy. “Well, exclusivity.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie is too distracted to fully think that over. He snorts. “Uh… weren’t we already?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie frowns at him. “That’s not what I mean.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It takes Richie a second before the realization hits him like a bucket of cold water down his back. His amusement is snuffed out like a candle. “You mean like… sub… exclusivity? Like I’d be the only…?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie nods.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie gapes at him. “Are you insane?” he manages to squeak out. “This is your </span>
  <em>
    <span>job.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It is, yeah, but...” Eddie starts, seeming confused, which is in and of itself insane. “Look, I can bump up my hours at the garage, so it’s not going to be a financial burden, and I have alternative Doms lined up for most of my clients. It’s fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No it’s not fine, it’s crazy!” Richie blurts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie blinks at him. “If you don’t want to, that’s okay,” he says. “I’ll just put it down as a hard no.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not a hard no, I just don’t understand what the fuck you’re talking about!” Richie shouts. He doesn’t know why he’s shouting, but he can’t stop, something hot and putrid coiling through his gut.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie sits back. “Okay. Why?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wh--” Richie hisses. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Why?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Because… you own a </span>
  <em>
    <span>riding crop, </span>
  </em>
  <span>dude, you’re just gonna let that go to waste?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“First of all, I’ve gotten plenty of use out of that already, second of all I </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> used it on you,” Eddie says slowly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah but not for </span>
  <em>
    <span>real,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Richie says. “You’re just gonna be some asshole who has a riding crop for show?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes?” Eddie says. “Richie, we really don’t have to push this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I want to understand!” Richie snaps. “What the fuck?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie sighs. “Fine. I don’t really care about the riding crop. We can use it and my other tools for sensation play, but I’m not even really a sadist. I’m far more of a masochist.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well I can’t do that either!” Richie cries, chest heaving as he blinks away tears.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie blinks at him. “You already do that,” he says. “When I ask you to claw at my back or bite my neck when I’m fucking you, that’s because I like that pain.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well…!” Richie protests, but he can’t do anything but let out a strange choked noise and sob.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Rich,” Eddie says gently. “What’s this about? Honestly?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just don’t think you should be putting all your eggs in one basket because what if you realize it’s a shit basket and it can’t hold all your eggs and now your eggs are broken and you hate that basket and you don’t want it anymore!” Richie says in a rush.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The ensuing silence is deafening.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright,” Eddie says, calmly, closing the binder as Richie desperately tries to wipe away his tears. “I want you to hear me out to the end.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But I…” Richie mumbles, hiccuping.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Eddie says firmly. “First of all, this idea freaks you out, so we’re shelving it. Doesn’t matter why, we’re not going to discuss it until you want to, if you want to.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie nods helplessly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Second of all,” Eddie says, pulling Richie into his arms and easing them both down to lay on the sofa, arms wrapped around Richie, “I have a lot of eggs and a lot of practice putting those eggs in various baskets, and I know what kind of basket holds my eggs right and I know that you’re the best basket I could get for all those goddamn eggs.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie lets out a strangled, wet laugh. “Okay, now this sounds like its own fetish thing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie smiles, holding Richie tighter. “Rich, I want this. Only if you want it, I mean, but if it’s just me you’re worried about, I want this. For so long I’ve been scared of my desire for control because it feels like there’s a thin line between enjoying the control I wrestled back from my mother and… having it become her kind of control, I guess.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie sniffles into Eddie’s chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Domming was a way for me to offer a service with that control and have rules and boundaries about how and when to use it. I never trusted myself to put all that victory and focus into one person, because what if… what if I couldn’t really handle it, all at once? My mother never thought I could.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie swallows. “Your mom’s a twat.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie laughs. “Yeah. Well. Until I met you I didn’t want anyone to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>mine.</span>
  </em>
  <span> I’m… I’m scared of my mom. I’m scared of being who she wanted me to be and I’m scared of being her. I’m scared of both at once, sometimes, even though they’re opposite ends of a spectrum. But you… you understand me and you see me and you make me feel the most </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> I could be. You…” He sighs, mulling over his words. “You make me feel like </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>decide who I am, more than I ever could by myself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” Richie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You make me feel like I can handle all of that… I don’t know, that control and that love without it going wrong and I want to give you all of it because I want to </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> all of it,” Eddie says. “I love my job. I do. I’ll miss it, a little, but I want you to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>mine, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and to have you with </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> of me. And that’s because of who you are and how good you are to me, so there’s no… I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> going to realize I don’t want you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What if you realize you still wanna do the job, though?” Richie murmurs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then I’ll call my clients up and tell them I’m back,” Eddie says. “I don’t have to turn in my Dom license or anything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie snorts. “You don’t get exiled from Domland?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t,” Eddie says softly. “Look, think it over. Give it some time. If you don’t want it, that’s fine. I love you just as much no matter what you decide. But I promise I </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> want it, okay? I’ll continue wanting it, as long as you want it too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie sniffles intensely and breathes it out. “Okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie pulls him in. “We can pick this back up tomorrow, let me hold you now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright,” Richie says, and nuzzles into his shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>**</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They spend the day together cuddling and watching cartoons, and then Richie goes home and promptly spends most of the night laying awake and trying to think it over.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s not just insecurity, he tells himself. He tries to think of Eddie with just one car and can’t. Then again, Eddie spends a lot more time with cars than he does Domming. He shows the cars off. He makes statements with his cars. Maybe it’s not an exact parallel.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie must know what he wants. Richie knows what </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> wants.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At least, he did.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hadn’t been jealous. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>hadn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> been. He thinks it over a million times and finds the same thing, that he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine</span>
  </em>
  <span> with Eddie having other subs. It’s a thing Eddie enjoys, has fun with, that makes him think and gives him an outlet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie likes that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He likes thinking of Eddie working with people, patient. He likes the idea of Eddie being a mean Dom to other people, even, only to be soft with Richie.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He also likes the thought of being Eddie’s, his one and only. A lot. The more he convinces himself that Eddie would actually enjoy it, the more he likes it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>If</span>
  </em>
  <span> Eddie really wanted it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The flip side is that Richie can see all too clearly how Eddie could try to focus all his attention on Richie and then simply lose interest. Slowly but surely, and then…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then Richie is going to go from what Eddie wants to what’s keeping him from what he wants, and that sounds like the worst thing in the world.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually, he has to accept that he’s not getting anywhere in this thought process, roll over and squeeze his eyes closed and stop thinking about it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>**</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Deja vu,” Richie says, the next day.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie looks him up and down. “You look exhausted.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I got my six hours,” Richie says. “Just... a little later into the day.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie sighs. “Were you up all night worrying?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe,” Richie says. “Thinking. Then worrying. Then thinking a little. Then worrying a lot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You could have called me,” Eddie says, pushing him onto the couch again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think I can do the exclusivity thing,” Richie says. “Yet, anyway. It’s not a hard no, but we’ve barely even done this together and I… I just worry you’re gonna resent me for it eventually.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie wavers, like he’s not sure how to maintain boundaries and argue that point at the same time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know it’s not really founded in reality,” Richie says. “I still can’t stop thinking about it. Maybe we can… taper. You know? Less clients, more Richie time…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie looks a little disappointed, but he quickly wipes it away and nods. “That’s a good idea, actually,” he says, like he only noticed it was true after he’d said it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, look at me go,” Richie says weakly. “Good ol’ Good Ideas Tozier.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie sits beside him and puts a hand on his thigh. “Richie, you’re extremely intelligent and insightful,” he says. “I’ve told you before that I trust you to know me, and that includes suggestions like this. You’re right, suddenly going from working as a Dom to being your full-time Dom would be… kind of intense. Possibly… dumb.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie laughs at the obvious realization playing over his face, but he’s too distracted to tease. “Wait, what does… full-time mean?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Depends. Some people have 24/7 Dom/sub relationships,” Eddie says. “Where, basically, any time you’re at my place would be a scene. I think that would make me really uncomfortable, but we could have a schedule. You seem to like that. Maybe every day at the same time you check in no matter what you’re doing. It could even be something small, just… telling me what you’ve done well that day and I’ll praise you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie shivers. “Oh,” he says. “I… I think I </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> want that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie’s eyes light up. “Daily praise time?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie nods, chest squeezing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie holds out his hand and Richie hands him the pen without thinking. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie neatly scrawls:</span>
</p>
<ul>
<li><em><span>5pm check-in for praise.</span></em></li>
</ul>
<p>
  <span>Richie wonders how they’re going to top that. “Is, uh, there more to this 24/7 thing?” he asks. “Not the whole nine yards, just stuff you’re comfortable with?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hm,” Eddie says. “Well, some people have their subs undress the second they’re in the Dom’s,” he gestures around the apartment, “space, but again, I find that suffocating. Or they’ll have a collar that the sub will wear around the house and a matching bracelet to wear outside.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” Richie says. “I could wear a bracelet.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie smiles. “I could get you something nice. Something leather, maybe?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mhmm,” Richie says. Hedges on a smile, lips twitching. “You could pick my clothes?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie cocks his head. “Is that something you like?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well,” Richie says. “I know you have opinions about them. And I know you color coordinate with your cars. And…” He pauses for a moment to think about it. “Yeah, I like it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He watches as Eddie bends down and writes:</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<ul>
<li><em><span>Bracelet in lieu of collar</span></em></li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li><span>Color decisions for outfits</span></li>
</ul>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Speaking of, I’d like to drive you places,” Eddie says. “Whenever possible.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You want me to ask permission whenever I use an Uber?” Richie teases.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie shifts. “Maybe?” He swallows. “Is that overbearing?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, it’s hot,” Richie says, grinning.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie narrows his eyes at him. “You’re sure?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Eddie, are you ever actually going to say no or is this </span>
  <em>
    <span>purely</span>
  </em>
  <span> a roleplay thing?” Richie asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie sighs. “Well, no. Your car isn’t a ticking time bomb now that I’ve worked on it and you drive like a grandma, so it’s not like it’s unsafe or anything. I just...”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I hate driving,” Richie assures, resting his chin on Eddie’s shoulder. “I’d much rather use an Uber or Eddie approach to this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie chews his lips, then writes:</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<ul>
<li><em><span>Either I drive or Richie asks me</span></em></li>
</ul>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What happens if I do drive?” Richie asks, sultry.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think I feel comfortable punishing you for things that are at their core safety things,” Eddie mutters.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie laces their fingers together. “Okay.” He kisses Eddie’s cheek. “Then you won’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie takes a deep breath. “Yeah. Good. That’s probably enough BDSM in our everyday lives for now. We should focus on scenes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I liked the vibrator,” Richie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I liked that too,” Eddie says. “I’d like to move more into suspension bondage, if that’s alright?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s spectacular,” Richie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie draws a small line, adds a headline reading </span>
  <em>
    <span>DURING SCENES</span>
  </em>
  <span> and starts adding those.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I liked what we were doing before,” Richie says. “Just being calm and quiet. You praising me for everything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie nods and keeps writing, then looks back at Richie. “I’d like to try actual sex during scenes, but you fall into subspace so quickly I want to be careful,” he says. “The way subspace works, it can be very difficult for you to provide informed consent for anything new once you go into it. Any sex we’re having, I want to detail it all before you go down.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right,” Richie says slowly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So… it should be something you’re comfortable talking about,” Eddie says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, boy,” Richie says. “Well. I don’t think I’d mind being fucked while I’m like that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Could I have you ride me?” Eddie asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie wrinkles his nose. “Nah. It’s pretty fuzzy but so far when I’ve been like that I think I’ve just wanted to lay there like a dead fish.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sexy,” Eddie teases.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Very,” Richie laughs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, so you want to stay relaxed,” Eddie says, jotting it down. “Got it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie smiles at him, watching the way his eyebrows furrow when he concentrates, the lines of his face growing stronger like he’s angry even as his hand stays gentle on Richie’s knee. “Hey, boss, I think I need a kissing break.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie looks up, eyes wide as he tries to switch gears. “Oh,” he says. “Yeah?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, desperately,” Richie says softly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie softens too, reaching up to cup his face. “Well, then I guess we have to.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh!” Richie blurts. “Kisses as rewards.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie smiles, looking incredibly charmed. “I think we can manage that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And sometimes I want to just have chill scenes, like we did at the start,” Richie says, before he forgets. “And gold stars. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>love</span>
  </em>
  <span> the gold stars.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, okay, noted,” Eddie says. “Now do you want this kissing break or not?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I do,” Richie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie laughs and pushes him back, straddling his lap so they can kiss.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>**</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It might be too soon for this,” Eddie says, the moment Richie picks up the phone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie gives him a moment to continue, then says, “Context, Eddie,” when he doesn’t.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I, uh, I’ll have some time at the garage where I’ll be alone,” Eddie says. “You can come over and I’ll lock up and we can… uh…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie gives him another moment. “Fuck in a car?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Or, um, on one,” Eddie says. “Whatever. Do you feel comfortable with that? As a scene. I know it’s not my apartment, so a new location might throw you off, but…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I’m good,” Richie says. “I’ll be with you, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Eddie says. “You will be.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What should I wear?” Richie asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh,” Eddie says. “I’ll… take a look when I pick you up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Richie says. “Okay. I’ll be waiting.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, cool, bye,” Eddie says awkwardly, hanging up with a hurried little click.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie laughs and lays back on his bed to read a comic book until Eddie shows up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looks flustered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie clears his throat, then shuffles over to his closet. “You’re sure you like this?” he asks as he starts rifling through Richie’s closet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I like this,” Richie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How, uh, weird can I get?” Eddie asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, I love weird Eddie,” Richie assures him. “Get as weird as you like.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie whirls on him. “Do you have any jeans you don’t need anymore?” he says in a rush.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie raises an eyebrow. “Dude, are you strong enough to rip denim right off me because damn,” he says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I…” Eddie says, frustratedly pantomiming scissors.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie grins when it clicks. “Eddie, are you attempting to put me in jorts?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t call them </span>
  <em>
    <span>jorts,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Eddie says. “I just… you know those pinup car girls?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie wheezes out a hideous laugh. “Excuse me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know, um,” Eddie says, slowly tugging out Richie’s one white button-up. “Short shorts, unbuttoned shirt… We could… uh… I mean I guess I wouldn’t want to get it dirty…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We can get that dirty,” Richie says. “If it still fits. I never wear it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie blushes. Hard. “Yeah?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Richie says, rolling out of bed to help Eddie find an old, frayed pair of jeans. “Go on, get the scissors, they’re in the kitchen.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie </span>
  <em>
    <span>runs.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He honest-to-god </span>
  <em>
    <span>runs.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He gets back, eyes Richie’s thighs and starts hacking away at the jeans.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So,” Richie says. “What did you have planned?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, god, do I have to say it out loud?” Eddie says, freezing mid-snip. “I do, don’t I? It’s an unfamiliar place, we’re new to BDSM in a relationship, you’re going to need to know what to expect…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie sits on the bed and grins at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie groans. “I want you to act like a bimbo,” he says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie grins wider. “Come again?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Or, like, you don’t have to go full bimbo, I guess,” Eddie says. He narrows his eyes, like he just remembered the Barbie voice. “Actually, maybe don’t. I just want you to be clueless about cars--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Check.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“-- and then I’ll take care of you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, wait, is this like a roleplay thing, or like…” Richie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t… uh… know,” Eddie admits. “I… Okay, actually, we should talk that over, I just thought I’d say the word bimbo and then… die, maybe.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie giggles, patting the bed. “C’mon. It’s okay. You get way weirder when you actually want things, you know that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” Eddie says, sitting down and flopping back onto the bed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie lays back with him. “So?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie sighs. “What do you want?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mm,” Richie says. “I guess I could do roleplay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But?” Eddie prompts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie shrugs. “I don’t have strong feelings about it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie props himself up with his elbow. “Well,” he says. “I guess… I’d rather just be with you. For real.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie grins. “Trust me, I can muster up some bullshit about cars that I fully believe. No pretending needed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie sighs. “I know you can.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can also do it wearing jorts,” Richie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Stop</span>
  </em>
  <span> calling them jorts,” Eddie snaps, then slumps. “But I’d like that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>**</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie’s driving his SUV, Richie notes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shifts, spreading his legs a little. “So like,” he says, “how’d you decide which car to fuck in, the suspension or something?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie sighs, giving him a look. His eyes flicker down to Richie’s thighs before snapping back to the road. “You’re tall and I haven’t decided if I want to fuck inside or outside the the car yet.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oooh,” Richie murmurs. “Yeah?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Eddie says, putting one hand on Richie’s thigh as they grind to a halt in traffic. “What do you know about suspension anyway?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hm,” Richie says. “Well, one time my car would keep listing to the side whenever I was going down a hill, and I took it to a mechanic because Stan made me, and he said something about the suspension, I think.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie gives him a look of horror. Someone honks at him to remind him the light is green, and he quickly looks back at the road. He visibly steers himself away from horror to something sexy. “And he let you take that car back after that, huh?” Eddie murmurs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah man,” Richie says, deciding to go big or go home. “Even though I told him I’d been driving it like that for weeks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s an absolutely feral look in Eddie’s eyes right now, but he doesn’t peel them away from the road again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Guess I’m lucky to have you now,” Richie says sweetly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Eddie says, a little hoarse. “I’ll keep you safe.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mm,” Richie says. “I know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yellow,” Eddie says softly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie looks at him, nodding expectantly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Promise?” Eddie asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie smiles at him. “Yeah, Eds. I feel super safe with you, I promise.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie takes a deep breath and nods, pulling into the garage.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He parks the car and pauses, looking Richie up and down. “How many times have you been to a mechanic?” he asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, definitely not as many times as I should have,” Richie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hm,” Eddie murmurs. “Well, I can’t say I’m not a bit glad.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really?” Richie says, cocking his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie slides his hand up the inside of Richie’s thigh. “It was risky,” he says. “A lot can go wrong with a car, especially if you’re not a good driver.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, I’m not,” Richie breathes, gasping as Eddie palms at his crotch.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But nothing happened,” Eddie murmurs, “and now you’re all mine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mm,” Richie says. “Yeah. Definitely not going to let another man look at my engine again.” He winks at Eddie.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Eddie says, eyes dark and lustful. “No, that’s my privilege alone, isn’t it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” Richie breathes. Eddie leans down and pushes his seat back, climbing into his lap.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love cars,” Eddie says. “I love them. I love what they say about the people who own them. I love the freedom they give people.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You like protecting my freedom?” Richie says, in a sudden stroke of horny genius. “You like that I trust you to give me as much freedom as I want?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie lets out a guttural noise and licks up Richie’s throat. His hand finds its way into Richie’s hair, tugging hard. “Keep talking like that and I’ll make it worth your while.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie gasps as Eddie rolls his hips against Richie’s crotch. “How?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll tell you how perfect you are,” Eddie murmurs. “I’ll make you feel good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie shudders. “I know,” he says. “I know that.” He reaches for Eddie, to pull him closer, but Eddie shoves his hands back down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hold the seat,” he orders. “Don’t touch. Take what I give you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Richie says, a fuzzy feeling shivering through him. “God I feel so free when you’re doing that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Eddie says, sliding his hands up Richie’s throat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Richie breathes. Talking while Eddie’s making him feel like jello is a new one, but it’s oddly easy, too. He can just be </span>
  <em>
    <span>honest.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Yes. I feel like I can just let go and enjoy things. I feel like I’m bigger than my body. God, I feel so relaxed when you’ve got me like this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie tugs his hair, working his way around Richie’s scalp until there’s a steady pulse of sensation trickling down his spine. “Keep going.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you driving me around,” Richie says. “Feels like I can go anywhere and relax, because I know you’ll take me wherever I want to go and I don’t have to think or watch the road or anything. I can just exist wherever I want. I know you’ll give me that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie unbuttons his jeans and slides his hand inside, cupping Richie’s dick and jerking him gently. Slowly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mmm,” Richie moans. “Eddie, you gotta know how good I feel with you. How safe and free.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie chuckles. “Getting tired of talking, sweetheart?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” Richie mumbles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Want me to take over?” Eddie murmurs, directly into his ear as he tugs Richie’s glasses away. The words travel down his neck and into his gut.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” Richie sobs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie withdraws his hand and opens the car door. “I’ll make you feel so good, baby,” he says. “You want that? Yes or no.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” Richie breathes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie smiles and gets out of the car, dragging Richie after him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’re we…?” Richie starts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ssh, sweetheart,” Eddie says. “I’ve got you now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie relaxes. “Yes,” he breathes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie leads him to a different car, bright blue. “Hands on the hood.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie bites his lip, doing as he’s told. Eddie steps closer, pulling their bodies flush with each other. He undoes Richie’s zipper, slowly slipping his hands under the denim and down Richie’s legs, the shorts going with them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie stifles a whimper.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have I mentioned how sexy it is when you do the splits?” Eddie murmurs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie can guess where this is going, but he stays as he is, hands on the hood, waiting for Eddie to tell him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Spread your legs. Lean on your elbows,” Eddie murmurs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie does so, spreading his legs enough that he’s bent over the car comfortably.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“God, you’re so perfect,” Eddie murmurs, wrapping his arms around him and holding him steady. “I love seeing you like this. I love how intuitive you are. I love how much you like being told what to do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie rests his forehead against the cool metal as Eddie’s arm wraps around his waist, his other hand sliding between his legs to start opening him up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just stay there like that,” Eddie murmurs, one finger slipping inside Richie. “When you came to visit me here, you sat on the car I was working on and you had your legs splayed out for balance. God, it was so hard to focus.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“On one of your </span>
  <em>
    <span>babies?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Richie blurts. “Because of </span>
  <em>
    <span>me?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie freezes. “Rich,” he says, casually, and god, Richie’s in </span>
  <em>
    <span>trouble.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Are you not aware </span>
  <em>
    <span>you’re</span>
  </em>
  <span> my baby?” He starts moving again, fingers grazing against Richie’s prostate enough to tingle but not enough to give him any relief.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean, I knew I ranked </span>
  <em>
    <span>among</span>
  </em>
  <span> your babies,” Richie breathes. “I think I’ve beaten the orange Camaro.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re special,” Eddie says. “You’re my </span>
  <em>
    <span>baby.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The way he says it is so firm, so definite. Richie moans.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can you say it for me?” Eddie says, voice low. His fingers are slowly driving Richie insane, too much and not enough. His legs are shaking, struggling to stay balanced.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m your baby,” Richie says quickly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Perfect,” Eddie says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His fingers haven’t gotten any more merciful, so Richie quickly adds, “I’m perfect. I’m yours and perfect.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes you are,” Eddie says, finally scissoring his fingers and fucking Richie with them for real.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie groans, knees nearly buckling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before he knows it, Eddie is pressing against him, slick and hot. He moves slowly, deliberate, fucking his way inside Richie. He reaches up with one hand to push Richie’s head down and uses the other to bring one of Richie’s legs up onto the hood, bent against his chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It leaves Richie with no leverage at all, sliding down onto Eddie’s dick. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He moans, and Eddie pulls his head back by his hair. “I love to hear that. Do you feel good sweetheart?” He pulls Richie’s hair so affectionately, manhandling Richie’s head without hurting him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” Richie says. “Yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good boy,” Eddie says. “I love when you do that. Follow the rules so easily.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie whines. He’s not even sure exactly what rules he was following, but he wants to. He wants to follow Eddie’s rules so badly. Eddie’s rules are always so tender, so patient and with such a great reward.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Keep making those noises, sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs, and starts fucking Richie in earnest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie moans louder, letting Eddie’s momentum carry him as the car bounces below them. Eddie is almost entirely supporting his weight, letting Richie go lax.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He loves going lax.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie’s making noises of his own, hungry against Richie’s back. They feel almost as good as the fucking itself. Richie’s mind goes fuzzy as the pleasure mounts. Eddie’s got him. Eddie will take care of him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie reaches around his middle and wraps his hand around Richie’s dick, jerking him off in time with the thrusts, and Richie’s coming, trying to find something on the hood to grip for dear life.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie tugs him away from the car, wiping him down with something before getting his pants back on and lowering him to the ground. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie’s ears are ringing as Eddie returns his glasses onto his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He blinks blurrily at the come dripping down the hood. “Oh,” he slurs. “Sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie laughs, stroking his hair affectionately. “It’s okay.” He’s already wiping it off with a little towel. “I planned that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wow,” Richie says, because it seems to cover all his bases.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Much less messy than fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>in</span>
  </em>
  <span> the car, honestly,” Eddie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” Richie says. “Can we do that too?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, we can do that,” Eddie says, kissing the top of his head. “I’ll just put a towel down.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nice,” Richie says. His legs are still splayed on either side of him as he sits on the floor. “Heh. You like this?” He spreads them a little further to gesture at the insides of his thighs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie chuckles. “Yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie beams at him. “I liked this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good,” Eddie says. “Thank you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie bites his lip. “Wanna go for a cooldown drive? Just… around?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie’s eyes light up. “Yeah, Rich, I’d like that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cool,” Richie says. “Let’s go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie helps him up and kisses his cheek, then hands him a peanut butter cup procured from - as far as Richie can tell - nowhere. Richie grins, helplessly endeared, and stumbles after him.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>next chapter i make up for my lack of georgie at the yuletime party bc my beta was ready to fite</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Chapter 18</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i'm feeling normal and totally not stressed about this being the second to last full chapter</p>
<p>warnings: talk of how georgie lost his arm ft a complete lack of severity about the matter from both georgie and richie. uhh minor crimes. a brief mention of daddy kink. um. idk. let me know if i need anything else, i can't remember my own writing</p>
<p>also big thanks to ree for helping me with car talk, i would have been completely lost</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Good morning,” Eddie murmurs, kissing his way up Richie’s throat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Remind me to bring up sleepy sex when I’m awake,” Richie mumbles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh yeah?” Eddie asks. His dick is pressed against Richie’s ass, but he’s comfortable just staying like this.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe,” Richie says, yawning loudly. “Or maybe just lay on me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie chuckles and rolls them over so he’s laying on Richie’s back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ooh, yeah, squish me daddy,” Richie mumbles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I do </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> wanna get into daddy kink,” Eddie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Me neither, to be honest. I called my dad ‘Daddy’ until I was ten so it’s super weird to hear it be a sex thing,” Richie says. “However, I like annoying you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s so cute,” Eddie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Me annoying you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Eddie says, lazily tugging Richie’s bracelet off the nightstand and wrapping it around Richie’s wrist, admiring the red leather against Richie’s skin. It’s about an inch wide, neat little patterns pressed into it, a silver clasp holding it together.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie sighs gently, mumbling as he dozes off again. Eddie lays there, listening to him breathe until his phone buzzes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He groans, slowly reaching over to get it. “Eddie Kaspbrak speaking,” he says, too lazy to open his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s B-Bill?” Bill says. “Do you not have my number saved?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I do, but I am still asleep,” Eddie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie giggles beneath him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, well, G-Georgie is exhausting me. I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>begging</span>
  </em>
  <span> you to distract him,” Bill says. “I am so tired. Mike and I have plans and for once I would like to simply ignore my brother.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t you and Mike always have plans?” Eddie asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Plans to go </span>
  <em>
    <span>out.</span>
  </em>
  <span> We’re going on a double date,” Bill says. “Mike and Patty like each other so much and I think St-Stan tolerates m-my company, and you know how Mike doesn’t get out much. I think he r-really wants this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mike</span>
  </em>
  <span> doesn’t get out much,” Eddie says, because while it’s true, it’s not like Bill is any better. They’re both the type to stay in all day writing and researching and notice three days later that they haven’t set foot outside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Eddie,” Bill says. “I need a day with no little brothers.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hm,” Eddie says. “I feel like this is aimed at me as well.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Bill says, too quickly. “N-N-Not at all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right,” Eddie says. “I’ll take care of Georgie.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Bill says. “I owe you one.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, you don’t,” Eddie says. “Have fun.” He hangs up and tosses the phone on the bed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are we killing Bill’s brother?” Richie mumbles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” Eddie says. “Nap a little longer.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mmkay,” Richie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie yawns and scrabbles for the phone to call Georgie. “Your brother says you’re being a pain in his ass,” he says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wish you were in </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> ass,” Richie mumbles, then snores a little.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ha!” Georgie says. “He’s a liar. He’s just mad I called his plan so quickly.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Plan?” Eddie asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, he’s going with their new friends to let Mike look at some old archives or whatever, right? Get Mike in a nice mood, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>then</span>
  </em>
  <span> he got tickets to that rose garden Mike loves.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That sounds nice,” Eddie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Eddie,” Georgie says. “Come on.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie lets the thought percolate. “Oh, he’s proposing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>totally</span>
  </em>
  <span> proposing,” Georgie says. “Anyway, I tried to shake him down for details, but he wants privacy, so whatever. You want to go to a racetrack?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie sits up so quickly he accidentally elbows Richie a little too hard, earning a glare over Richie’s shoulder. “What racetrack?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah,” Richie murmurs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I got us tickets to a race in Albany. One of the yacht owners I work for has a wife who’s having an affair with one of the drivers. I figure we can go and send Bill some selfies to soothe his nerves. You know, show him we’re having fun from a safe distance so he doesn’t have to worry about us,” Georgie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Eddie says. “Good thinking.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie rolls over and gives him a look like he knows exactly how much Eddie is “thinking.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh-huh. I’ll text you the details. Bring your man.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hangs up, leaving Eddie to flop down and distractedly mouth at Richie’s shoulder until Richie starts laughing at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>**</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Richie, Georgie. Georgie, Richie,” Eddie says hurriedly as he cranes his neck to get a glance at the cars.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie extends a hand to shake Georgie’s, and predictably ends up holding Georgie’s detached arm while Georgie gleefully watches him for a reaction. Richie takes a moment to process, then lights up with identical glee. “That’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>so good,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know, right? I only get one go at it with anyone new,” Georgie says, shrugging off his coat so he can take his arm back and reattach it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh damn that’s a goldmine of jokes,” Richie says, like he’s considering hacking off his own arm purely for the comedic value. Eddie would intervene but at that moment an engine revs and he’s back to standing on his tiptoes trying to find a source. “Do you have a cool story for how you lost it too?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nah, I was swept down a storm drain when I was six and got trapped in the sewers for a few days,” Georgie says. “It actually really sucked.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My condolences, but also that just means you have free reign to make up whatever the hell you want about how you lost it, right?” Richie says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah!” Georgie says. “Right? I work on yachts for a living so I usually tell the ladies it was a shark attack.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought Bill told you to stop flirting with your clients,” Eddie says, distractedly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My client’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>wives,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Eddie!” Georgie calls. “See, I’ve got a plan to scare one of the rich dudes I steward for to death--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“With the arm, right,” Richie says, enraptured.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah! Then I’ll abscond with his newly rich widow and be set for life,” Georgie continues. “Bill says it’s apparently not a responsible retirement plan, but…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No it’s genius,” Richie whispers. “I love it. How are you going to throw the police off the scent?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can never let the two of you meet in front of Bill,” Eddie mutters, before he catches a glimpse of red paint and loses it again. “God, look at that sexy lady.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Babe, I need you to understand how straight you sound right now,” Richie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean the car!” Eddie snaps.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You call cars she,” Georgie informs Richie.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh I know,” Richie says. “Still disturbing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I promise I’m still gay, but right now I gotta get a closer look at that car!” Eddie says, taking off to see how close he can get.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He ends up ducked behind a railing, ogling a sleek red car.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie plops down beside him. “Hi,” he says. “Wanna go talk to the driver, see if you can take a look?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Eddie hisses. “No, come on, I don’t want to be a creep.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie stares at him long and hard. Eddie ignores him feverishly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, come on, we can go sit up in the stands and get a birds eye view,” Richie says, dragging him aside. Eddie casts one more wistful look at the engine just within reach.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie gets him into the stands in the front row so Eddie can lean over the railing and look.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hang on, before you get lost in all this,” Georgie says, tugging him back. “A picture for Bill.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie groans and leans back against Richie so they all fit together and manages to smile for the camera even as his brain screams to go back to the railing in case he misses anything.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie laughs next to him, vibrating through his side.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Georgie snaps the photo and takes a look, giggling. “Yeah, Bill will love that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie leans over to look. “Oh Eddie, you look so unhinged. Send me that too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie’s too busy standing on his tiptoes and looking at the nearest car to grace that with a response.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie joins him after a moment. “Alright, hit me with some words here, buddy,” he says. He glances around the stands cautiously, then subtly links his pinky finger with Eddie’s, hiding it from view with his leg. Eddie shifts to help him block everyone’s line of sight, curling his pinky finger around Richie’s to reciprocate.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie smiles, withdrawing his hand so he can lean his chin on his fist and watch Eddie softly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s a V8 engine, which has 4x the horsepower of a street-car. They’re rebuilt after two full race weekends because they’re only good for about 1000 miles. These ones are pretty far from what I work with, but some racecars have engines really similar to street safe ones. They’re also specifically engineered to drop the engine out of the bottom of the car if they crash to save drivers from engine fires and explosions.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm,” Richie says indulgently. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, and race tires are actually bald!” Eddie continues. “They have no tread on them at all because racetracks are smooth, so they have better traction if the sticky rubber below the tread makes contact with the pavement which is why races usually get cancelled when it rains. If the road is wet they slide right off the road.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sounds pretty bad,” Richie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie smiles at him. “Go ahead and talk with Georgie, I’m fine here.” He almost leans in to put his hand on the small of Richie’s back and give him a kiss, but pauses.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie pauses, casting a glance around the stands. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll give you kisses when we’re not surrounded by car guys,” Eddie murmurs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie chuckles, ducking his head. “Yeah, okay, car guy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie taps the back of his hand against Richie’s and lets him sidle back to their seats while Eddie allows himself to get fully absorbed in the revving of engines.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>**</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he finally thinks to rejoin them, Richie and Georgie are chattering like they’ve known each other for years. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m scared to ask what you two are talking about,” Eddie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Georgie has been telling me all about lil baby Eddie,” Richie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie sighs. “No doubt all flattering,” he says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I told him how you broke your arm,” Georgie says. “And when you threw your fanny pack into the river.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, yeah, that,” Eddie sighs. “That was a long time ago.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You sound like an adorable, brave, and feral little bastard,” Richie says, “with a lot of love in his heart. So really, nothing’s changed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie rolls his eyes. “Okay, well…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A few droplets of rain splatter on them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck, they might have to call off the rest race,” Eddie says, narrowing his eyes at the cloudy sky.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Um, more importantly,” Georgie says. “The rose garden is outside.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sure Bill has a backup plan,” Richie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie and Georgie exchange looks. Bill doesn’t do backup plans. Bill simply doubles down on his initial plan until it breaks him. Eddie looks at the cars wistfully, then back at Georgie and Richie. “Let’s go, we’ve got a proposal to save.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>**</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By the time they get to the museum, it’s pouring. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie peeks in. “Ok, I’ll try to sneak in and get Stan’s attention and you guys stay here and work something out with Ben, okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie sighs as he takes off into the rain and calls Bev. “Hey, how many roses can you and Ben acquire on short notice?” he asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hm,” she says. “Did you hurt Richie’s feelings? Because if you did, I’m afraid I’ll have to beat your ass.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, it’s not for me,” Eddie says. “It’s for Bill.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Aww, he hurt Mike’s feelings? That idiot,” she says. “Do we beat his ass for that? We both knew Bill first but Mike is so sweet, I feel like we do have to stand up for him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>proposing,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Eddie says. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Today.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ohhhhh,” Bev says. “Hang on, let me ask Ben. How many roses are you thinking?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“ENOUGH TO FILL A YACHT,” Georgie shouts over Eddie’s shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gotcha,” Bev says, then hangs up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stan and Richie join them in a second, drenched. Georgie sighs and grabs a towel from the trunk for them to sit on.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, what’s this about,” Stan says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Richie didn’t tell you?” Eddie asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I found him awkwardly wandering around the lobby, told him to come with me and he immediately agreed,” Richie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I am going insane,” Stan blurts, like he’s been desperate to admit it for hours now. “Mike seems very nice, but he and Patty are very invested in tomes of old English drivel and they’re really cute but god, I can’t get into that stuff, which means that according to couple date etiquette, I’m supposed to talk to Bill.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Aw, buddy, you don’t still think he’s evil, do you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No!” Stan says. “That’s the problem! I’ve spent so much time pretending he was evil that now that I had to face reality, he is </span>
  <em>
    <span>so boring.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Georgie gives him a gleeful look and extends his hand. “Hi, Georgie Denbrough.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, sorry,” Stan says and takes the hand. Georgie watches in manic glee as Stan realizes that the hand is not attached to anything. Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever been able to get two people with that in one day. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stan sighs. “Alright, I invited that.” He leans on the front seat to look at Eddie. “What are you doing here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bill’s going to propose, but he was going to do it outside and now it’s raining so we have to save him from getting so focused on the proposal he had planned he never actually gets around to a proposal of any kind.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So we’re going to break onto a boat that I work on but don’t technically own, fill it with flowers, and set them off to sea so he has no choice!” Georgie declares.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stan has to think this over for a moment. “Yeah, okay, I’m in.” He pulls out his phone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can’t tell him!” Richie chides.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have to tell Patty!” Stan protests.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No! What if Mike sees!” Richie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stan groans. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fine</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I’ll tell her I’m on a secret mission.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“When are </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> proposing?” Richie asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Patty’s going to propose,” Stan mutters as he goes back to texting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie nods. “Fair enough.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>**</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I couldn’t get just roses,” Ben says mournfully. “But I tried to pick things that feel like Bill and Mike or mean faithful love or…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s great,” Georgie says, watching with his hands on his hips as the rest of them arrange the flowers everywhere. “Damn, I’m such a good brother.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shit!” Richie yelps. “How are we gonna get him here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You didn’t plan for that?” Bev asks. “What kind of covert proposal heist is this?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I caved and told Patty everything, she’s extremely on board for kidnapping her new friend,” Stan says. He smiles to himself. “I love her so much.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, you win this time you dopey little shit,” Richie says. Stan scowls at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bev vaults over the bar. “Oh, I have some fairy lights in the trunk, we should put them up!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why?” Stan asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“For costume design,” she says. “Come on, Richie, help me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie snorts and arranges a few lilies to make a path.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s great for you, you know,” Georgie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hm?” Eddie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Richie,” Georgie says. “He’s fun and he looks at you like… </span>
  <em>
    <span>damn.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie softens. “Yeah. I like him a lot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Georgie grins, then perks up. “I’m gonna hide my arm somewhere holding a sign saying </span>
  <em>
    <span>Congrats! I’m your best man!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What if I’m his best man?” Eddie asks. “He was mine!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you want to organize a bachelor’s party?” Georgie asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Point taken,” Eddie relents.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Eddie, could you help me move the orange blossoms?” Ben calls.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>**</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s no way Mike doesn’t know exactly what’s going on by the time they arrive. He’s trying so hard to hide his smile but the gleam of his eyes makes it all too obvious that he knows, loves it, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>especially </span>
  </em>
  <span>loves the fact that Bill looks mortified.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bill drags Eddie and Georgie aside. He pauses. “Georgie, wh-where is your arm?” he asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Georgie just beams at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bill rubs his hands over his face. “Alright, f-fine,” he says. “I don’t know whether to b-be relieved or angry at you two, so let’s just leave it at that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Georgie says, pleased.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stares them down, hands on his hips. “G-Go!” he says, blushing hard.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What, we can’t stand here on the pier waiting for you so we can clap?” Georgie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I n-need a wh-while,” Bill says. “I have a sp-speech planned and…” Mike does a very poor job of pretending not to overhear this and hiding his grin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course you do,” Eddie says, while Georgie doubles over laughing. Eddie shoves Bill towards the yacht and by extension Mike. “Go on, don’t worry about Georgie.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mike presses him towards the yacht with one more mouthed </span>
  <em>
    <span>thank you</span>
  </em>
  <span> over his shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You think Mike likes the fact that he wrote the speech or that it’s super embarrassing that he wrote a speech?” Richie asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, definitely both,” Georgie says. “They’re perfect for each other.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mazel!” Patty calls as they take off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Does Bill know how to drive that thing?” Richie asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh yeah,” Georgie says. “I’ve uh… needed some help before. He knows.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Amazing,” Richie murmurs to himself. He looks at Eddie with a wide smile. “Shall we? I think it’d be nice to go for a drive.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie nods. “Yeah. Let’s go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>**</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He ends up driving them in the city. They sit in comfortable silence as he goes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, look at that,” Richie says, looking at his phone. “Mike said yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie smiles. “Glad to hear it.” It’s no surprise, but he’s happy for them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know, I think us merging our friend groups will result in a lot of beautiful moments,” Richie muses, grinning.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, we stole a yacht, technically,” Eddie says. “Maybe not the best sign.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, stealing a rich person’s boat in order to give two lovely people the space to express and let their love flourish?” Richie says dramatically. “We’re modern day Robin Hoods.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie snorts at that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think this is good,” Richie says, grinning wider. “I think our lives fit together really well.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie smiles at that. “Well,” he says. “That I agree with.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie smiles back, and they lapse into comfortable silence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’re quiet for a while longer as Eddie looks for a field to pull up in so they can look at the stars peeking out of the twilight. The clouds are clearing up now, almost like the rain was only there to get them to all pitch in on the proposal.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie pulls up in a small, secluded spot, putting the top back so they can look up at the sky.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” Eddie says. “After Ben moves in and Stan’s settled a bit, do you wanna move in with me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Man, you are really making what </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> wanted to talk about sound dumb,” Richie says. “But yeah, I really do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What did you want to talk about?” Eddie asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t imagine you with only one car,” Richie says, nose screwed up in thought.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d rather die,” Eddie says, before he notices it’s a metaphor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie smiles softly. “I don’t get it, man,” he says, quietly, tenderly, and Eddie doesn’t really know what he’s thinking now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s just a different thing,” Eddie mutters. “My cars, they’re projects. You’re a partner. I just want to have you and take care of you and I trust you to take care of me back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, but it’s like…” Richie’s eyes flicker across the night sky. “It’s the same kinda thing, right? You take a good look at what a car or a client needs and you come up with a plan and then you go to work. That’s what you like about it. That… action plan shit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Eddie says slowly. “I guess so.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think,” Richie says, “I get why you want me to be your only sub and… I like it. I just think you’re gonna miss that new journey you go on with every new client.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So?” Eddie says, petulant.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, what are you going to do about that?” Richie asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie hates this. “Why do I have to?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t want you to miss things,” Richie says, rolling over so he’s on Eddie’s shoulder, looking up at him. “I want you to have anything you want, and you’re gonna want something like this. Something with </span>
  <em>
    <span>people.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie wants to argue with him further.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” Richie says. “Trust me to look out for you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie closes his mouth, glowering into the dark. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>does,</span>
  </em>
  <span> but it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>hard. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Think about it,” Richie says. “If I’m wrong, that’s ok too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What does that mean?” Eddie asks, heart speeding up. It’s hard not to get ahead of himself, imagine it in neat letters on clean stationary. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Only</span>
  </em>
  <span> Richie.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It means I’m in,” Richie murmurs. “As long as you promise you’re happy… I trust you too. You know, to know what you want and to not...” He laughs at himself, “–to not resent me if things don’t work out perfectly, or whatever.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Eddie breathes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mm,” Richie murmurs, thumbing absently at his hand. “Yeah. I’m sorry I panicked before, I just… It’s hard for me to remember that people actually want me around.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I do,” Eddie says. “Want you around, I mean.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” Richie says. “I know that.” He chuckles, clearly reaching his limit for serious talk all at once. “Anyway, how do you feel about collars?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I feel pretty good about collars,” Eddie croaks, feeling hot and soft.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cool,” Richie says. “We could look at some? Together?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie nods, breathless. He’s excited and scared all at once.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well,” Richie breathes. “Just wanted to put that out there. Let’s breathe this fresh air, shall we?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie hugs him tighter and kisses the top of his head. “Yeah. Let’s.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>*muffled screaming*</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Chapter 19</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>final monday... this is fine</p>
<p>possible warnings: kink/bdsm relationship negotiation. i'm having brain fog over this being the last full chapter so please let me know if i've forgotten anything</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Hello, Eddie,” Stan says, pausing on his way down the stairs. “What are you doing?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I,” Eddie declares, sitting in the stairwell in Richie’s apartment complex, “am thinking.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hm,” Stan says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You ever… have your partner tell you what’s best for you and you know they’re right?” Eddie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All the time,” Stan says. “Why?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I hate it,” Eddie says. “I don’t like being told what to do. I don’t like being told what’s good for me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stan sighs. “Look, Eddie, the way Richie looks out for people…” He grimaces, searching for the words. “He just has a feel for people.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Eddie says, throwing up his hands. “Which is exactly the problem! He’s… he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>right</span>
  </em>
  <span> and then he just leaves it at that! Now I’m supposed to figure out how to fix this?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Eddie, if you ask him for help, he’ll do it,” Stan points out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie wrinkles his nose. He hadn’t thought about that. He’s not sure how to feel about it. “Is he home yet?” he mutters.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, just got back a few hours ago,” Stan says. “He’s exhausted.” He pulls out his key ring. “Here. Have my spare.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really?” Eddie asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I have a bunch,” Stan says. “Frankly, I’m scared of losing keys, so I just… go to town.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie snorts. “Okay. Thanks for listening.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He picks himself up and trudges up the stairs. He turns the key over in his hand a few times. He has a spare key to Bill’s, but it feels different to have one to Richie’s place.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He lets himself in with a small shock of excitement. What would it feel like to do this every day? To unlock the door and have Richie waiting for him? He can imagine a variety of situations under that umbrella. The first few thoughts are sexual, revolving around a collar and sultry looks, but they fade quickly to something deeper rooted, something easy and gentle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something like right now, honestly, as he ducks inside Richie’s room to find him face down and spread eagle on the bed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He laughs, sitting down beside him to ruffle his hair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If this is a burglar I’m too tired to get robbed today,” Richie mumbles into the pillow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, just me,” Eddie murmurs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, well, if you wanna be a sexy burglar…” Richie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How’d auditions go?” Eddie asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie whines incoherently into his pillow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie laughs and massages his neck comfortingly. “Okay, I know.” He lays down on Richie’s back, flattening himself so he covers as much of him as he can. “Wanna talk about it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie turns his head so he can talk properly. “I don’t know, just a bunch of little hoop-jumping with no real promise of reward.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie checks his watch. “Well, it’s almost five,” he says. “So relax and take a second to think of something you’re proud of.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm,” Richie says, all but purring contentedly. “I love our praise appointments.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie snorts and sits up, kneading his hands into Richie’s shoulders. Richie hisses until Eddie works out one of the bigger knots in his shoulder, then sighs and relaxes. “Are you thinking?” Eddie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah, I’m makin’ a list,” Richie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good, sweetheart,” Eddie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Should you be praising me before it’s time?” Richie teases. “It’ll lose its novelty!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, sorry,” Eddie teases back, leaning down to murmur in Richie’s ear. “Guess I’ll have to do something to make it special this time, huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mmm,” Richie mumbles. Eddie can feel his back arch under Eddie’s thighs. “I guess so.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright.” Eddie keeps massaging his shoulders and neck, down his spine, until his watch beeps.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, time to party,” Richie sighs. “Okay, well, I didn’t vomit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A very good start,” Eddie says, brushing Richie’s hair back with one hand while the other digs into the space between Richie’s shoulders to press a knot out. “I know how nervous you get and it </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> worthwhile that you’ve overcome that anxiety to perform for people.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie lets out a breathy laugh. “Well, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>like</span>
  </em>
  <span> performing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That doesn’t mean performing for the judgement of others is any less scary. That’s what an audition is, isn’t it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Richie says. “I don’t think I was half bad, though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I am positive you were better than you thought,” Eddie says. “You don’t see it, but you’re very charming and it far outweighs the faults you see in yourself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie lets out a small </span>
  <em>
    <span>hrn</span>
  </em>
  <span> as Eddie hammers the point home by dragging the heels of his hands out across Richie’s back. “That feels good,” he slurs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m glad, sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs. “I’m proud of you for saying so.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really?” Richie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” Eddie murmurs. “It’s a big step for you, talking about your wants openly. I’m so happy when you do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie laughs, sort of like one might after missing the last step on the stairs and quickly afterward experiencing the high of righting themselves. “Well, good, I guess.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How do you feel about doing a proper scene here?” Eddie asks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mm,” Richie says. “I mean, Stan and Bev are both supposed to be out until late. If we lock my door I think it’s… fine?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie hesitates, then gets up and locks the door so he feels safe. “You don’t sound sure.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not,” Richie says, craning his head over his shoulder. “I want to, though, and I trust you. So… I think we can ease into it. Slow and steady?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Eddie says. “Sure, yeah, we can try it and stop if you’re nervous.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie smiles and settles into the bed, starfishing even harder. “Tell me what you’re doing as you do it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie smiles. “Safewords first.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Green for go, yellow for slow down, red for stop,” Richie drawls. “C’moooooon, what’s the plaaaaaaaan.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie grips his hair and tugs slowly but firmly. “I’m talking now sweetheart. You can talk later, after I’ve made you feel very nice.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mmmkay,” Richie murmurs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m going to keep massaging you,” Eddie explains, straddling Richie again. “You’ve been on your feet a lot today, and I think it’ll feel very good to relax your muscles a bit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Richie groans as Eddie presses his hands hard into the small of his back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You and your stooping,” Eddie says. “No wonder you have so many knots in your back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You sound like my mom,” Richie groans. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you wanted me to stop scolding, you could have just asked,” Eddie teases, tugging off Richie’s shirt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie laughs, moaning when Eddie dives back in to massage his lower back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” Eddie says. “I didn’t mean to berate you about stooping. I don’t mind working the knots out of your back. In fact, I really like it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie lets out a soft breath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I especially like the noises you make,” Eddie says, putting his weight onto his palms and pushing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie lets out a noise of satisfaction from deep within his chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I want to get you worked up slowly,” Eddie explains. “A nice, deep sheet of subspace, if you will. I want you to relax but also feel a very slowly mounting pleasure.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like boiling a frog,” Richie says, before letting out a strangled noise when Eddie kneads over his hips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Something like that, yeah,” Eddie says, peeling away Richie’s pants. He slips off the bed to get them off Richie’s feet, then quickly undresses himself. “I’m wondering,” he continues as he mounts Richie again, “if me getting off by grinding on you as I’m working the worst of these knots out will help with that plan.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie’s breath hitches. “Well, it sounds good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It would really remove any sense of urgency,” Eddie explains. “Plus, having me get off on you with no effort on your part would probably help you feel like… well, like you’re satisfying me by relaxing. Which you are.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ooh,” Richie coos. “Yes, convince me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Grab the tissues off your nightstand?” Eddie asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie does easily (even though they’d be out of reach for Eddie, which is very annoying) and tosses the box over his shoulder at him. Eddie catches it and sets it aside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He digs the heels of his hands in and presses his dick to the crease of Richie’s ass, grinding slowly. “Remember,” he says, “even if I do have an end goal in where to get you mentally, I really like this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Richie breathes. “Yeah, I can…” Eddie moans as he lets his dick slide between Richie’s cheeks. “Mmm… I can tell.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie chuckles. “Does it feel nice? Do you like me using your body for pleasure?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Richie breathes. “Oh man, </span>
  <em>
    <span>yeah.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I like it too,” Eddie says. “Mostly because I know this is just the start. I’m gonna take it nice and slow and make you feel so, so good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sounds like you want that more than the orgasm,” Richie breathes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe,” Eddie says. “Probably.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie whines.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie grinds against him, still massaging his back with his palms, his thumbs, relishing the small noises it draws out of Richie. He comes with a gasp, spilling all over Richie’s back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie gasps, breathing harshly, twitching when Eddie wipes up the come and tosses the tissues aside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He clambers up onto Richie’s back, laying flat. “Now I can focus all on you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie groans. “You really like that?” he says, quiet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love it. I love watching you fall apart. It’s like… Like peeling a pomegranate.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie starts laughing softly. “What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That feeling when you crack it apart and start brushing all the little seeds out? It’s so fucking satisfying,” Eddie says, taking Richie’s wrists in his hand and guiding them up. “Hold the sides of the headboard. Don’t let go until I say so, okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Richie says, gripping the headboard tightly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, no, relax,” Eddie says, smoothing his hands over Richie’s arms. “Just hold it, don’t grip it for dear life. I’m not going to rail you today.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie relaxes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good boy,” Eddie says. “Catching up so quickly.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie squirms under him until Eddie shushes him, sliding his hands under Richie.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re so good for me,” Eddie says. “Letting me grind on you until I came. Even though you’re so hard, aren’t you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” Richie breathes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s okay,” Eddie says. “I’ll let you come when it’s time. Just trust me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I do,” Richie mumbles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie moves his hands slowly, their combined weight pressing them into Richie’s skin. He’s careful not to tug any body hair comfortably.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s never been into body hair, but now that it’s attached to Richie he quite likes the feel of it. Likes stroking his hands over it, feeling it brush against the pads of his fingers. He mouths absently at Richie’s shoulder as his hands roam up to cup Richie’s pecs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He chuckles to himself. “I’ll be honest, both of those things were for me,” he admits. “I like squeezing these and I like putting my mouth on you. But I think that’s alright. I think you like those too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” Richie murmurs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good,” Eddie says. “You feel good?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie turns his face into the pillows as Eddie starts thumbing at his nipples. “Yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie lets himself moan softly, low. “Perfect.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie’s breath hitches at that, a mewl rising in the back of his throat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m trying to envelop you in good sensations,” Eddie says. “Build it from all sides.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie rolls his hips, whining.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not yet,” Eddie says, moving one hand down to palm at his belly, the other swirling over Richie’s nipples, alternating sides. He goes back to mouthing at Richie. It’s relaxing, almost peaceful.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie’s breathing is harsh and he looks wrecked when Eddie glances up at him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can rock your hips,” Eddie murmurs. “Nice and slow.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie does, whimpering as he shifts against the bed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, you’re so hard,” Eddie says, sliding his hand down so Richie can rut against his palm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie lets out a broken little sound at that, eyes going hazy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Say something nice about yourself and I’ll blow you,” Eddie says, thumbing at the tip of Richie’s dick. “Can you do that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can I…?” Richie slurs. “Um. Mmmm?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t you want to come inside my mouth? Nice and warm around you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nnnnn,” Richie manages, blushing down his back and chest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I want to put my mouth on you,” Eddie says. He keeps moving his hand slowly, open palm, in circles. “Say something nice about yourself so I can do that, sweetheart, I want to so bad.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mmmmperfect?” Richie tries, blinking as he tries to gather his thoughts. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” Eddie growls, a shiver of pleasure running down his spine. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Yes,</span>
  </em>
  <span> you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>perfect,</span>
  </em>
  <span> that was </span>
  <em>
    <span>great,</span>
  </em>
  <span> sweetheart.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie sobs in relief.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie moves up to tug at his wrists. “You can let go now. You did so good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pulls Richie’s hands away and rolls him over. Richie goes easily, obedient, and Eddie slides down his thighs to get his hands firmly on them and slide Richie’s cock into his mouth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie groans loudly, mewling when Eddie starts to swirl his tongue.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It doesn’t take long before he’s jerking and coming in Eddie’s mouth, and Eddie swallows it down quickly, before the taste can really hit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(He usually books it to brush his teeth at this point, but aftercare is more important in this case.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He crawls up to join Richie as he tries to catch his breath, chest heaving. He looks at Eddie like he needs to be told he did good.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You were spectacular, sweetest,” Eddie says, pulling their foreheads together. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie makes a desperate noise.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sssh,” Eddie says. “Did you go down from all that, darling?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie doesn’t answer, just sniffles against Eddie’s nose. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course you did,” Eddie says softly. “Time to come back up.” He tilts Richie’s head up so they’re making eye contact. “Look at me, sweetest, just focus a little at a time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie takes a sharp little breath, nosing at Eddie’s neck.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie pets his hair, murmuring to him as he does. “That’s it, baby, you’re here with me, just slowly come up and look around…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie mumbles at him softly, then finally looks at him, slightly bleary. “I like when you narrate.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I like it too,” Eddie says, petting Richie’s head absently.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You should be a teacher,” Richie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie blinks at him. “What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie frowns at him. “You didn’t give me chocolate.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shit,” Eddie says. “You’re right. You have some cocoa in your cabinets, right?” He grabs a blanket to wrap around Richie, hoping the warmth will balance out the fact that he doesn’t have food to give Richie before his sugar potentially drops. “That’ll work.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie smiles at him. “If you say so, but I feel pretty good, actually.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie pauses, taking a deep breath and kissing Richie’s forehead. “Okay,” he says. “I’m glad. But I’m still making you hot chocolate, come on.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie tugs the blanket close and shuffles after him into the kitchen, beaming at him the whole way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>**</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They end up on the couch watching Murder She Wrote - Richie’s guessed the murderer in the first ten minutes 3 times now - and Eddie’s brain is circling a thought like a penny in a cone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You think I could teach?” he blurts, finally.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Teach what?” Richie says, lifting his head like he’d been half asleep already.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You said I should teach,” Eddie says. “I could… Could I teach?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie wracks his brain. “Oh, yeah, I did say that,” he says. “I don’t know, man, you seem to like explaining things. What’s this about?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That would work, right?” Eddie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Again, don’t know what this is about,” Richie says slowly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“For… you said I should find something that’ll have me working with people,” Eddie says. “I could teach.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie squints at him for a long while. “Like… Dom stuff?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Eddie says. “That would work, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean, that’s up to you,” Richie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jesus Christ, Richie, you made the right call so just tell me what you think!” Eddie snaps. He’s immediately overwhelmed by shame.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” Richie says softly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Eddie says. “God, I’m sorry, I’m snapping at you for… having a good intuition about what’s good for me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” Richie says. He takes Eddie’s hands in his. “Does it help to remember that I’m not trying to score points over you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie takes a deep breath and nods, an uncomfortable rage still buzzing under his skin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I’m not,” Richie says softly. “I just want you to be happy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> that,” Eddie grits out, a sense of desperation creeping over him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know you know that,” Richie says, sliding off the couch to kneel in front of Eddie and take his hands. “I just think it helps if you hear it sometimes. Am I wrong?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie sighs. “No. You’re not wrong.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie smiles. Him kneeling in front of Eddie like this is weirdly calming. It makes Eddie feel bigger. That had always been something used against him like a weapon. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Eddie is too small, too fragile, too sick…</span>
  </em>
  <span> He likes the way Richie can shelve his size. Holstering it, letting Eddie know he’s safe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d like your opinion,” Eddie says, the anger fading as he reminds himself. “I trust your opinion.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A languid grin creeps over Richie’s face. “My opinion is that I think you </span>
  <em>
    <span>love</span>
  </em>
  <span> lecturing people.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I could… put out feelers…” Eddie says. Now that the anger at being told what’s good for him is gone, he feels silly. This is a good idea, as usual, and Richie’s doing a great job at helping Eddie get to where he wants to be in a way that works. “There’s some clubs that probably want instructors.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie nods. “I think you should try it out if you feel good about it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie lets out a slow breath. “I will.” He pets Richie’s head. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. I shouldn’t do that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” Richie says. He smiles. “When I was little we had this dog, a stray, that had probably been kicked. If you nudged her with your foot she’d pretend to snap at you, and then she’d roll over looking as guilty as a dog can. But she never, ever bit, not even a little.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So I’m like your dog,” Eddie says dryly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Woof woof motherfucker,” Richie laughs. He shrugs. “It’s cool, man. Get a little snippy sometimes. We all do it. It’s not scary, if that’s what you’re worried about.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie takes a deep breath, then lets it out. “It doesn’t hurt you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie shakes his head. “Nah, man, come on. You apologize the second you think you sound mean. It’s cool. My feelings are A-okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, alright,” Eddie mutters. “But I’m still going to cuddle you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, you better!” Richie says, clambering up into Eddie’s arms and graciously accepting a kiss on the cheek.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>**</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>First thing in the morning, Eddie calls Kay.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kay had helped him in setting up his Dom business, and he realizes as he’s driving to meet up with her that he’s nervous to tell her he might be quitting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kay’s preferred meeting spot is a nice little bakery. Eddie wonders if she has a deal with the owners to get her a table in the back, away from everyone else every time they meet there to talk Dom stuff.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kay is an intimidating woman. Eddie had been unnerved by her at first, constantly sure she hated his guts. Now, several years into their friendship, he’s pretty sure she likes him, but the smallest twitch of her mouth sends ripples of doubt through him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, what’s this about?” she asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He clears his throat. “I’m, uh, seeing someone,” he says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She raises her brows in what he thinks is a congratulatory manner.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The thing is,” Eddie says, tapping his fingers against the table, “I sort of want to… stop seeing clients. I want to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> Dom.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She cocks her head, face serious. “Your idea or his?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mine,” Eddie says firmly. “In fact, he didn’t like it at first. Says I’ll probably miss working with people.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hm,” she says. “He’s not wrong.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Which is why I was wondering,” Eddie says, “if you know of any classes I could teach. Workshops.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Weekends, I assume?” she says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’d be best,” Eddie says, searching her face for any kind of approval.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She pulls out her phone and scrolls. “The Silver holds some workshops. You’re great at rope bondage, they could definitely use a class or two on that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie nods. “I’d also be sending you a few of my clients, if you have the capacity for them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure,” she says. “Do you have a list?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I do,” Eddie says, hurriedly pulling out his appointment book.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, lets go over them,” she says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t think it’s crazy, right?” Eddie says. Kay is as headstrong as they come. If anyone would have a protest on this matter, it would probably be her. Quitting his business for a partner is the least Kay thing anyone could do.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is it what you really want?” she asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It really is,” Eddie says. “For… For a lot of personal reasons, really, but… also… the things I could do to him with my undivided attention.” He struggles not to make an inappropriate noise in a public space.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kay grins. It’s hard to make her smile, and Eddie feels a sense of relief. “Godspeed,” she says. “Now give me those clients.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>**</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They end up debating who would be best for each client for more than an hour, then schedule a class for Eddie at The Silver.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After they’ve wrapped it all up, Eddie swings by the office Richie’s auditioning at this week where he’s patiently sitting outside the building.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He beams at Eddie when he pulls up, slipping into the seat beside him. “Hey,” he says. “So?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll be teaching a class a few weeks from now,” Eddie says. “On basic shibari techniques.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How’s it feel?” Richie asks. “Right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie smiles slowly. “Yeah, I think it’ll work.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie takes a deep breath. “So…? Do we… wait to see how it feels and then…?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Well if it works out I'll have to make a calendar for classes, remaining sessions, and meetings with Kay and you. I can share it with you and we'll discuss…" Eddie pauses, realizing that the details of Eddie's calendar system aren't what Richie is asking. “I want this even if teaching doesn’t work out. How do you feel about that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “Good, I guess.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just…” Eddie says, as he pulls out into the road. He’s glad they’re talking about this in the car. It makes him feel less scattered, more in control to be driving. “I don’t mind experimenting with what works for a while, but I can’t see myself </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> wanting to give you my undivided attention.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie’s breath hitches. “I mean,” he says, then stops. He bites his lip. “Yeah, okay. I’ve thought about it, and it doesn’t seem as deranged as it did when you first mentioned it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you,” Eddie says. “I want to focus on you down to the roots. I want to give you my </span>
  <em>
    <span>undivided</span>
  </em>
  <span> attention.” He tries to search for the words to explain what he means, all the things </span>
  <em>
    <span>attention</span>
  </em>
  <span> means, but there’s too much ground to cover.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie chuckles, breathless, leaning into Eddie’s space helplessly. “Don’t hurt yourself there,” he laughs. “I know what you mean and… I want it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Eddie asks, desperate to hear that they’re both into this.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie nods. “I want that so bad. The more I think about being… being the one you </span>
  <em>
    <span>chose</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be your </span>
  <em>
    <span>only</span>
  </em>
  <span> sub the more it drives me crazy.” He bites his lip. “All the stuff you said about me being perfect and no one being as good as me…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> I meant those things,” Eddie says. “That’s why I’m dating you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie lets out a strangled noise, looking at Eddie desperately. “That’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>crazy,</span>
  </em>
  <span> man, that’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>bonkers.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t just mean as a sub, Richie,” Eddie says. “I mean… I mean everything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie wheezes like he just ran a marathon. “We’re gonna have to take this bit by bit,” he says. “Every time I really think about it I feel like… like those little play-doh dudes under a hydraulic press, you know, with their eyes bulging out and then they explode…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie smiles. He loves Richie’s weird visuals. He loves </span>
  <em>
    <span>Richie</span>
  </em>
  <span> so much. “Well, as I’m phasing out my clients maybe I’ll phase you into the idea of being my only sub.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Richie says. “Baby steps.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s go back to the coffeeshop where we had our first scheduled meeting,” Eddie blurts. “Every week.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie laughs. “Is that the only way you can see us not tearing our clothes off while we talk contract stuff?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie laughs too. “I just think it’s nice.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s nice,” Richie agrees.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie’s thoughts trickle into something cohesive the more he settles into the idea that they’re really doing this. “Also, I want to balance any talk we have about a serious, exclusive and full-time BDSM relationship with talks about… our actual relationship,” Eddie says. “Every time we talk about how to make you my only sub I want to talk about… about giving each other the keys to each other’s places and…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Moving in together?” Richie asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie nods. “Eventually.” He takes a deep breath and attempts to clarify. “I know talking about all this in the framework of BDSM and sex can be exciting, but I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever</span>
  </em>
  <span> want you to forget what’s behind it all. This is something that I’ve used to define myself in the world after I struck out on my own. That’s how you matter to me.” He pauses. “Does that make sense?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Richie murmurs, eyes tender as they bore into Eddie’s face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You make me feel so good,” Eddie admits. “So safe in my own skin.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie smiles. “Ditto.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie laughs. “Romantic.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie laughs even harder. “Super romantic! I say that ditto with all the love in my heart, jackass!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie shakes his head, laughing all the way. “I love you,” he says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If I say ditto right now are you going to yell at me?” Richie asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“With all the love in my heart,” Eddie says, smiling at him gently.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie reaches over to intertwine their fingers. “Well, ditto. I love you so much. Can’t wait to be your only sub and accept all the weird metaphorical sappy shit that entails.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie’s heart bursts, and he wrenches Richie down into a kiss, unbearably happy.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>see you for the epilogue on friday! </p>
<p>(it's fine i'm not crying you're crying shut up)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Chapter 20</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>whew ok here we go</p><p>(edit bc i legit forgot this morning, kinks: cockwarming, collars)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“You know I’m gonna be waltzing into the apartment so much it’s gonna be like a sitcom, right?” Richie says. Over Stan’s shoulder, he takes in their - Eddie and Richie’s - new apartment yet again. Eddie had insisted on so many walkthroughs his real estate agent definitely hates him, but it feels different now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It feels </span>
  <em>
    <span>theirs.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Stan hugs him tighter with a little sniffle that chokes Richie up too. He’s trying to get through this without crying but it’s not looking good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You won’t even notice I moved out, Eddie and I are gonna be in your kitchen one hundred percent of the time,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One block,” Eddie mutters under his breath as he marches up the stairs with the last box of Richie’s stuff.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, the last box of Richie’s stuff that he could find. He’s sure he’ll be jogging down the block (because of </span>
  <em>
    <span>course</span>
  </em>
  <span> Eddie had searched tirelessly until he found a place a stone’s throw away from Richie’s old place before actually asking him to move in) to get his forgotten charger from Bev’s room or a potholder from the kitchen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It won’t be the same,” Stan sniffles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tears prickle at Richie’s eyes. “Aw, buddy, but you’ll have Ben in my stead. Ben, you can make inappropriate jokes at inopportune moments for Stan here, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ben gives him a despondent look, like he’s started sweating profusely at the mere thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok, no he can’t, but he can do puzzles with you!” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stan sniffles louder and squeezes Richie, and goddamn it, Richie is gonna cry too. He looks to Patty to gauge how much of an obligatory get-it-out-of-your-system cry this is. She’s absently scrolling through wedding Instagrams, which is a good sign.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wraps himself around Stan and they both have a good cry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Stan finally pulls away, he wipes his face, straightens his jacket and says, “Well, I’ll enjoy the peace and quiet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, absolutely, I’m gonna love being able to walk around naked,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(In the kitchen, Eddie furiously attempts to act as though he hadn’t heard that.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are we going?” Patty asks, looking up from where she’s sandwiched between Bill and Mike. Mike keeps scrolling through her phone. “We can’t keep Georgie waiting at the cake place or he’ll have to pretend to be the groom and that’ll get weird.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie grins. Patty knows how to schedule - Stan needs a time limit on his goodbyes, or he’ll get sad again. “How’s that going?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill gives the middle distance a harrowed look. As far as Richie can tell, the wedding planning has become Patty’s passion project, imbued with all her mischievous glee. She and Mike seem to have constructed a network of over 50 pinterest boards with an aesthetic Richie can only describe as “bookish archaic ethereal grandeur with a hint of the surreal,” and the way she and Georgie have planned cake and catering tastings is borderline illegal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill, frankly, seems in over his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, this one’s interesting,” Mike says, showing Bill whatever he’s looking at on Patty’s instagram.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s great,” Bill says, looking at Mike instead of whatever is on the screen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not hard to figure out </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span> he’s in over his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, it’s great alright,” Patty says. She bounces over to Stan and links their arms together. “It’s giving me a lot of ideas for the next one.” She winks at Richie forcefully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stan grumbles, too embarrassed to acknowledge the unsubtle hint as he wipes under his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie laughs and puts his hands on Stan’s shoulders. “I’m literally gonna see you tomorrow,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah,” Stan says. “Bev, come on, we’re heading out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bev bounds down the hallway. She spreads her arms wide in front of Richie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie hugs her, smiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gonna miss you,” Bev says. “I’ll think of you dearly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m one block down, I’m not dying,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who knows, we’ve never left you alone with Eddie so long,” Bev says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop,” Stan grumbles. “Come on, let’s go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bev releases Richie as Stan whirls Patty around to walk her out of the apartment before he has to say goodbye again. She waves at Richie sloppily as she goes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you’d like any plants to liven up the place,” Ben says, “just ask.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We will, Haystack,” Richie says, somewhat relieved when Bev grabs his hand and tugs him away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike elbows Bill towards Eddie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re, uh, h-happy for you,” Bill says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you need anything let us know,” Mike says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Eddie says, brows furrowing in what Richie can only assume is an influx of emotion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill shuffles awkwardly, as does Eddie, and Mike catches Richie’s eyes as he tries not to laugh. “Bill,” he says, not fully managing it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie looks at Eddie, starts laughing, and has to avert his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like two old men unaware how male affection works, Bill and Eddie finally manage to hug each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve c-come a r-really long way,” Bill says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stay that way for a while. Richie and Mike exchange looks and Richie nearly loses it. Mike’s a quiet guy, but god does he impart an unreal sense of humor with just his eyes. One look and Richie has a million jokes on the tip of his tongue about how absolutely stilted Bill and Eddie are at expressing their profound love for each other. Mike seems to hear them all without a word said, and the amusement in his eyes nearly sends Richie sprawling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill breaks away first, and Mike kindly puts an arm around Bill.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have fun with your fiftieth cake tasting!” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We will,” Mike says as they step outside, grinning in a way that says, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Georgie, Patty, and I are going to try to get antlers and/or diamonds on this cake and yes we do all know that Bill would say yes despite hating it and we are going to milk that for all it’s worth.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie laughs and waves as they head out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door closes, and Richie counts to ten before heading over to lock it, then look back at Eddie. “Okay,” he says. “We officially live together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie smiles at him. “We do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie takes a deep breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Still up for what we talked about?” Eddie asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie nods. He’s feeling a lot of things and he would very much like to wind down now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie rolls his sleeves up. “Kneel and close your eyes,” he instructs, nodding at the rug in front of the TV.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie’s knees hit the plush material with a surge of relief and he lets his eyes flutter shut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie smiles. “Quick as ever,” he says, planting a kiss on Richie’s forehead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hears Eddie leave the room, then return, standing behind Richie. He’s so close that Richie can feel his warmth radiating into his back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gently, carefully, Eddie slips Richie’s collar around his throat</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a comfortable, loose collar with a velvety feel to it, a bright crimson with a little buckle. Richie can easily move his head and let his chin drop in it, which is good, because the moment it goes on he finds himself relaxing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie slips his glasses off gently. “They’re on the TV stand, sweetface,” he says, voice low.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie shudders, letting Eddie slide his shirt off, then work off his pants until he’s buck naked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie sinks down behind him and starts binding his forearms together. He loops the rope around Richie’s chest and then his waist, then around his thighs and calves to bind them together. He laces the rope around Richie’s ankles and wrists together tightly, then reaches down to slide Richie up against the couch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can open your eyes now,” Eddie murmurs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie does so slowly, head buzzing with an odd mixture of relief and anticipation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie pushes his hair back, kissing his forehead. “I’m very relieved to have you here in our home,” he murmurs, thumbing at the sides of Richie’s neck. “All mine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie nods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie grasps Richie’s chin in his hands, not hard enough to be a threat, but hard enough to alert Richie. “Yes,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And?” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yours,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie kisses him. “Good,” he murmurs. “Me too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie shudders at that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie stands, keeping the tips of his fingers resting on Richie’s shoulder as he rounds him and sits on the couch. “I think we’re just going to be quiet today,” he says, easing Richie’s head back into his lap and combing his fingers into his hair. “I think you’ve had a long day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Richie croaks, letting his eyes flutter shut as Eddie keeps dragging his fingers through Richie’s hair, methodical, kind, sometimes catching and twisting and sending sparks through Richie’s scalp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie turns the TV on, but Richie can’t be bothered to figure out what they’re watching. He just wants to focus on Eddie’s hands and the tug of rope against his skin all over his body, the weight of the buckle against his Adam’s apple.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie’s hands keep moving without pause, kneading at his scalp and slipping over his forehead. “You’re such a good friend,” Eddie says. “It’s hard for them to see you go, even such a short distance away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie swallows hard. It’s a lot to process this kind of emotion when he’s already sliding into that vulnerable headspace. He feels bad - like he’s done something wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He feels </span>
  <em>
    <span>yellow</span>
  </em>
  <span> dancing on the tip of his tongue, but Eddie already knows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’ll be okay,” Eddie says softly. “Because you’re a wonderful, thoughtful friend who will stay just as present in their lives as ever. You’ll be there for them any time they need you because you’re kind and clever and observant.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The safeword dissolves, but the emotion remains, surging, making it hard to breathe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” Eddie says. “You’re doing fine. You can enjoy yourself. You like being here with me, and that’s alright. No one’s going to get left out, because you’re a spectacular friend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie gasps out something that’s not quite a sob, but getting there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to deal with that now,” Eddie says. “You’ve done your part. Just bask in this, now. You’re all mine and we both love it, don’t we?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love it,” Richie murmurs. “I love being yours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs. “You’re so lovely at it, too. You know just how to be mine in all the best ways.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie shivers, pleased to hear it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Relax,” Eddie says. “I’ve got you now. You don’t have to do anything but be mine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He kisses Richie’s forehead, and Richie lets out a sigh that carries all his remaining tension. He loves this. He loves having their own shared space where they can do this any time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie lets them enjoy the silence after that, petting and tugging Richie’s hair until Richie’s in a lull, occasionally cracking his eyes open only for them to slide shut a moment later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Color?” Eddie asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Green,” Richie says, because at the moment he feels like noodle soup and he knows that question only means something even better is coming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie bends down, getting his hands under Richie’s thighs and swivelling him around so he’s facing Eddie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reaches down, tugging his zipper open. “Color?” he asks again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Green,” Richie says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Eddie says. “You know the rules.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tugs his dick out of his boxers and gently feeds it into Richie’s mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie relaxes his jaw and lets it slide over his tongue. He lets the weight and taste of it fill his mouth, his throat, squirming until he’s comfortable with his nose pressed into Eddie’s boxers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He peeks up at Eddie, mostly performative, and receives an affirming tug at his hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He closes his eyes and lets himself go loose, lets the gentle touch against his head and the back of his neck and the heady taste of Eddie’s cock against his tongue ease him down into a nice, fuzzy state.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t notice when Eddie turns off the TV, only that Eddie is lifting Richie’s head with his hands and pulling his cock free of Richie’s mouth. “I think we’re going to leave it at that today, hm?” Eddie murmurs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie would agree to anything right now, but he still dutifully murmurs, “Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can have sex later, if you want,” Eddie promises, leaning down to undo the ropes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie blinks at him slowly, remembering piece by piece how to move the parts of his body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie laughs and hauls him up on the couch, pushing his hair out of his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie feels like hot butter, melting against the couch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to get chocolate, and then we’re going to have a bath,” Eddie says, kissing his forehead. “How does that sound?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie groans. That takes actual words. “Good,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Eddie says, ruffling his hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He vanishes for a moment, then returns with a peanut butter cup that he slips directly into Richie’s mouth, thumb brushing against his bottom lip. While Richie chews it, he presses a gold star to Richie’s forehead, smiling softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulls Richie in to help him drink a glass of water, too, then kisses him again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on,” he says, hauling Richie to his feet. “Let’s go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He walks him down the hall to the bathroom, getting out the bubble bath and filling the tub while Richie leans against the sink, lazily shaking his head to clear it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie holds out his hand and helps him into the tub. The temperature is so perfect, Richie wants to check him for a hidden thermometer, but then Eddie’s pressing his shoulders into the warm water and tilting his head back to wash his hair and his mind goes blank again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, when are we gonna break in the new place, eh?” Richie slurs finally, letting the warmth seep through his body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie smiles. “I do need a few photos for Sunday’s class, if you’re up for posing. Just a simple column knot. I have a few ideas about how to make it clearer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmm,” Richie says. “Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But otherwise, I really just wanted to cuddle,” Eddie says. “I just… like that we’re living together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie melts into his hands as Eddie shampoos him, running his fingers through his long wet curls. “Well, I’m shooting later tomorrow,” he says. “How about Saturday we go out to dinner, go for a drive, then do that, uh, thing we talked about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie goes beet red, letting Richie’s hair fall down to his shoulders to wipe his hands on a towel anxiously. “The… uh…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hypnosis thing,” Richie says, grinning. “Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie somehow goes redder. “Okay. Sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie laughs. “You’re so cute.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck off, no I’m not,” Eddie says, cutely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie sighs happily, smiling up at him. He’ll push those buttons later. “I’m glad we live together,” he says. “I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie takes a moment to shift gears, then smiles back. “Yeah, me too,” he says. “I love you too.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i ran out of energy and composure to reply to comments after a few chapters but man! the response to this fic has been bananas and i am so touched that you all liked it! i'm so touched by every single kind comment y'all have given me and i'm so glad i decided to write this fic! thank you!!!</p><p>that said i will now take a nap for the next 3 years, l8r</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I am dgalerab on Tumblr and also Twitter, feel free to come talk at me about this fic, or leave a comment!</p></blockquote><div class="children module" id="children">
  <b class="heading">Works inspired by this one:</b>
  <ul>
    <li>
        <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25404433">the wide world spins and spits turmoil (love will come to you)</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/justalittlegreen/pseuds/justalittlegreen">justalittlegreen</a>
    </li>
  </ul>
</div></div></div>
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